The Killers Son
by BoOkWoRm88424
Summary: Tom Riddle III, the son of Voldemort and was raised by a death eater. The death eater is in Azkaban now and Tom is starting his first year at Hogwarts. It just so happens that its Harry's first year too.R&R
1. Chapter 1

Tom looked around the court room. It was large, not that he could move. He was sitting in a metal chair, well chained to it, with a cage around him. The cage had sharp spear points protruding from the bars, all aimed at him. Even though it was black, the points were stained red. Many men had thrown themselves against the arrows trying to plead with their sentence, not caring whether the points pierced their desperate bodies. All of the cage's past resident's had one thing in mind, _I'm not going to Azkaban_. Tom was the exception as he sat down in the chair with his feet up and resting on one of the red arrows. He had every expectation of living the rest of his miserable life in the dark desolate place that wizards called prison. He stretched his arms and put them behind his head. If only he were on a cushioned couch he would be the image of comfort. He was going to spend the rest of his life rotting with dementors and he was going to enjoy these last minutes of peace while they lasted.

The room was full of every witch and wizard with in a one hundred mile radius. The entire population in the ministry had come to see him and more. In the front of the rows of wizards was an older man, maybe fifty years old, dressed in crisp black dress robes with tassels hanging around his collar. The man's grey hair was pencil stick straight, and his moustache was seemed to have been combed recently. Of the many pairs of eyes in the room, his revealed the most emotion. If looks could kill, then the piercing glare that the man, Barty Crouch, was shooting towards Tom, would have killed him. Of course the punch line of it all was that today he was going to Tom's judge and jury. He leaned back in the metal chair, today was a waste. Judging by the murderous look in the judge's cold grey eyes, his fate was already decided.

Tom must have been sitting in the center of the court room for at least an hour, when Crouch tapped a large gavel on the table in front of him twice, declaring the start of the day's proceedings.

"State your name," he commanded.

"Tom Riddle the third."

"Your father is Tom Riddle Jr?" Crouch asked crinkling his nose in disgust. Of course, he already knew the answer. It was probably for the benefit of the crowd.

"I share his DNA, yes, but he never acted as my father," Tom replied. There was no real benefit in describing the distance between him and his birth father. Still, maybe if the people in the room believed that he truly never had nothing to do with the man, they'd stop looking at him like he was an attraction at a popular freak show.

"Explain yourself," Crouch grunted his lip twitching slightly.

"After I was born Voldemort imprisoned my mother and tasked her to take care of us. She raised me and my brother until we were three. Then she died and my father took us in. The Dark Lord was dead at that point. I refer to the man who took me in as father," Tom explained bluntly, fidgeting his hands when he talked about the man. He had practiced the speech a few times over in his head on his way here. Though, it really didn't convey things properly. His voice sounded emotionless and foreign as it left his lips. He told himself that it had to be this way. He couldn't let them know how much it hurt to proclaim everything that had happened in front of the wizarding world. Life was so much simpler when he pretended that his past hadn't happened to him.

"Your father is Augustine York," Crouch said almost accusingly.

"Yes," Tom had to keep himself from cringing at the name. If he had learned one thing over the years he'd spent being raised by York, it was that he was never to call father by his real name.

"The death eater?" Crouch clarified. The man was tapping his bony fingers rhythmically on the table. Each time his fingers touched the wood a faint _pat, pat, pat_, could be heard. Tom focused himself on the sound of Crouch's fingers, synchronizing his breathing with the sound.

"Yes," Tom repeated

"You mentioned you had a brother. Where is he?" Crouch asked.

Tom knew they would ask about Jonathan, but that didn't mean that he was prepared for it. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. _Keep it short, _he reminded himself, _it will hurt less._"We were twins. He is dead now."

Crouch narrowed his eyes, "How did he die?"

Tom bit his lip, "I'm- I'm not sure. I buried him though. I dug his grave with my own two hands. No magic. If you don't believe me I can take you to it." He felt his hands shaking now as memories threatened to overwhelm him. With a deep swallow, he pushed them back down into the depths of his mind. Only a little longer and he would be alone again on the cold floor of a private cell. Soon, this would all be over.

Crouch shook his head, repulsed at the thought of visiting the grave of Voldemort's son. "That won't be necessary. How old are you?"

"Thirteen," Tom answered grateful that the questions were moving away from sensitive topics.

"What is your magical ability?"

"I've been learning spells since I was three. Since the ministry didn't know I existed I don't have the trace on me… I am probably more skilled than most twenty year old normal wizards," Tom responded. A murmur went through the crowd. Apparently, that was impressive.

Crouch leaned forward in his seat, "We have examined your wand and have found spells deemed illegal by the ministry on it. Specifically, the Cruciatus curse and the Killing curse. Most wizards go their whole lives without the knowledge of how to perform these spells. Who did you harm?"

Tom showed no reaction to the accusation. Why deny the truth? "My father hunts muggles. He incapacitates them and takes them to our house. He will kill them immediately sometimes. Other times he tortures them for days. It doesn't happen that often, but when he's in an especially rotten mood he'll bring me up and have me use them as practice dummies." Tom paused taking a deep breath.

Somewhere in the back of his mind a distant memory of his mother surfaced. The three of them had been in a field and Jonathan had squished some bug under his little shoe. _Jonny what did that poor bug ever do to you?_ His mother had said to his brother. God, he wondered what she'd say if she saw him now.

"I killed a lot of them," Tom whispered gently, as if he were confessing to his mom in the flesh. Guilt weighed down on him like a two ton mountain.

Crouch stood up and pointed at him enraged with by the words, "So you admit it then," he yelled extending a long finger and jabbing it at him.

Tom was about to respond when someone else beat him to it, "Would you have expected him to do otherwise?" a man asked from behind Crouch. The man was old, with a long white beard that went down past his chest. Half-moon spectacles adorned his wrinkled face. Behind them, two crystal blue eyes shined bravely. Clearly, he was the most respected wizard in the room, for no one questioned his interruption in this high profile trial, not even Crouch.

"We have laws to uphold Dumbledore, laws that have been broken. The boy has confessed," Crouch sneered at the man. His piercing grey eyes weren't glaring at Tom with hatred anymore. Now they looked pained as he tried to implement his authority as judge without undermining this man's esteemed place among the wizards.

Dumbledore ignored Crouch and instead he addressed Tom, "What is that on your arms Tom?"

Tom glanced down at his tattoos becoming uncomfortable. They brought up another weapon that his father had physically drilled into him: never show weakness. Well, right now it seemed as if he were going to have to announce his to the world, "I believe it is a dark mark. I've been told that all of His followers have them. I've always had mine."

Dumbledore shook his head, "A traditional dark mark only is on one's left arm. I see you have it on both. And yours is particularly dark. If I am correct, it is only dark when active. Voldemort has been gone for ten years now and yours looks like it was active just yesterday."

Tom nodded and sighed then he proceeded to remove his shirt. The room gasped. He had two normal marks on both of forearms with the skull eating the snake. That was about as far as normalcy went though. The snakes from the two marks spiraled up from his wrists, around his bicep, and onto his chest. In the center of his chest was a third mark, the tails of the two on his arms connecting before disappearing into the skull of the third larger mark. The closer the mark got to the skull's mouth on his chest the better his audience could see the pink irritated outline around the black of the actual mark.

"When my brother and I were little my father's favorite punishment was the Cruciatus curse. Well apparently you can build an immunity to that because when we were six it stopped working. He made a new curse for us. I think it's linked to my dark marks and believe me it's much worse than the Cruciatus curse. It makes my mark turns a fresh black color and my skin get's red around the edges." He explained. His voice was faint, no louder than a whisper, but the court was silent as everyone listened intently to the thirteen year old boy. The people of the ministry were hanging on his every word staring at his dark mark with what might be sympathy in their eyes. Not that Tom would know, he grew up in a house hold were sympathy wasn't exactly a common emotion.

Dumbledore nodded and turned back to Crouch, "Tell me Barty if you were under that kind of pain for your entire life and you were raised knowing if you obeyed the pain would go away, how quick would you be to kill a muggle here and there."

Crouch's lips twitched, "What are you suggesting Dumbledore? We cannot just let him go. He-who-must-not-be-named was also known to be quite charismatic and look what happened when we let him run wild." Tom scanned his audience. Most of the spectators looked rather shocked that Crouch was still fighting for him to be put away. The judge on the other hand held a strong resemblance to a mad man as it was becoming clearer and clearer that he had no intention of losing this trial.

Dumbledore nodded, "Yes many were taken by Tom Riddle Jr's smile. However, this Tom has yet to even so much as defend himself. He just admitted to breaking the law and is probably expecting to spend the rest of his life in Azkaban. I am the only one here arguing his case, Barty. Unless you are suggesting his plan all along was to play on my compassion by confessing to his crime, assuming that I would stand up for him myself." A smile danced upon the old man's face.

Crouch irritation was becoming more and more evident in the lines on the man's face. Dumbledore was putting a damper on his plans. "Alas, I agree though, it is not in our best interests to simply send the boy off to his own designs," the old wizard went on bringing out his ace in the hole. "I think you should enroll him to Hogwarts. Have him start out with this year's group of first years. Then he'll have seven years in which he will be under my watch. At the end of this probation period he will have another trial. At that one we can gather witnesses of his behavior and nature and then decide whether he is a risk. Thirteen year old children don't belong in Azkaban. They should be out enjoying their childhood. This boy hasn't had a childhood, he has been trained and abused and I think that we should salvage what he has left his innocence."

The transformation that was occurring in the crowd was incredible. They had entered with expressions similar to that of an angry mob and Tom didn't blame them. The Dark Lord may have fallen eleven years ago, but the wounds he left would last for a lifetime. Tom's sudden appearance had reopened this wound leaving the pain raw and fresh. He was the devil's spawn to them. Then Dumbledore had spoken. He had opened the ministry's eyes to something they hadn't noticed before. Tom was indeed human and this realization was showing on each and every face that stared down from the audience. Suddenly, he had become more than the Dark Lord's son, he'd become the Dark Lord's victim.

Crouch's eyes may have been the only one not boring into Tom, instead he was staring at Dumbledore. The man looked like he was about to explode. He must not have been used to setting people free. Tom decided it was best to keep his poker face on. His eyes were staring at Crouch waiting for the man to say something.

"He shall not be allowed to join Slytherin. I don't want him in his father's house." Crouch growled. Tom fought the urge to drop his jaw in shock. He knew exactly what those words were: an admission of defeat.

Dumbledore smiled warmly at Crouch, "Of course we will leave him out of the normal sorting process, and have the hat put choose his house appropriately under these circumstances. I will be sure that it understands that Slytherin is not an option."

Crouch nodded miserably, "Alright, I hereby sentence you to a seven year trial period at Hogwarts," he hesitated, a sudden cruel smile spreading across his lips as he played his final desperation card. "Let me make myself clear though. If you so much as slip up once in your time there. Meaning any visit to Mr. Filch's office for any measure of rule breaking I will have you shipped to Azkaban before you even realize what you did."

Crouch wrapped a claw-like hand around his gavel and clapped it loudly on the table. Court was adjourned.


	2. Chapter 2

Dumbledore's office was a large round room that screamed magic. From the spot where Tom was standing he could see dozens of magical items that he recognized, and several that he didn't. On the walls was a collection of portraits of the previous headmasters. All of them seemed to be ignoring Tom's presence.

The room was a complete three sixty from the dump that his father worked in. He had lived in a cave with his father since he could remember. It was supposed to be a safe haven from the people who were hunting them. Until a month ago he had no idea who these people were.

"Why don't you sit down Tom," Dumbledore said patting on a cushioned chair that sat in front of his desk. Tom nodded and took a seat. Standing just to the right of the desk were two teachers. The first was a stern looking woman with brown hair. Dumbledore had introduced her a few moments earlier as Professor McGonagall, head of the Gryffindor house. The other was a man in a black cloak with black hair and black eyes. The man's face looked like it was frozen into a permanent scowl as he looked distastefully down at Tom from beside McGonagall. He had met Dumbledore and Tom at the gate of Hogwarts and had been introduced as Professor Snape, head of Slytherin house.

Dumbledore walked over to a shelf and picked up a hat from it. The hat glanced up at Dumbledore, "I think you are a week early," it said to the headmaster. Tom wasn't at all surprised to see the thing talk, he had heard stories about the hat somewhere in his distant past. His mother had probably told him about it when she was taking care of him, but he couldn't be sure.

"I know but we have a special case on our hands. He can't be sorted into Slytherin," Dumbledore explained. Dumbledore talked to the hat as if it were a respected college, it was rather strange.

Soon the hat sat on top of Tom's head to see for himself exactly how Tom had ended up in this situation. "Ahhhh I see what you are talking about Albus," the hat said, "Yes the boy belongs in Slytherin that's for sure. His family has never been placed otherwise. No Slytherin though. Hmmmmm well you aren't a Hufflepuff. Perhaps Ravenclaw. Hmmmmmm no I'm going to go with Gryffindor."

Dumbledore nodded, "That will do." He took the hat from Tom's head and placed it back on the shelf, "In a minute Professor McGonagall will show you to your dorm. Unpack your stuff and get comfortable. You can borrow school supplies for the year since you don't have any money to buy your own equipment. The other students will arrive in a week and you will follow the schedule of the first years. You may do whatever you wish for the next week as long as you abide by school rules in doing so. That means that the third floor corridor is off limits and you aren't allowed in the woods. Any questions?"

Tom had quite a few questions but none of them were about school, "Do the other kids know about Voldemort?"

Dumbledore nodded, "The war was legendary. There is not a soul who wasn't aware of it. However no one should be aware of your lineage because few people know Voldemort by his true name. You needn't worry about that."

Tom pointed to his tattoos," What about these? They are pretty noticeable."

Dumbledore paused thoughtfully. Then Professor Snape spoke up, "Bandage them. Tell the other children that you have some illness and that you are too proud to let them see your extraordinarily ugly skin,"Snape said. His voice hinted with sarcasm; however, he seemed to be serious about his suggestion.

Dumbledore smiled, "Yes that will be perfect."

Tom paused again, "Its true then everything they said my father did."

Dumbledore looked at Tom sympathetically "Yes I'm very sorry to say so but I'm afriad every word of it is true."

Tom felt a lump form in his throat and he looked at his feet. He wanted to know more about it, but he didn't have it in him to ask at that moment.

Dumbledore exchanged looks with Professor McGonagall, "Follow me Tom," she said. She led him out of the office and to the Gryffindor common room. The massive castle seemed empty as their footsteps echoed throughout the staircase.

When they got to their destination a portrait of an overweight woman hung on the wall, "burple berries," McGonagall said to the portrait. It swung open to reveal a large warm room. On one wall was an oversized fireplace with a picture of a griffin over it. It also had several arm chairs on the surrounding walls. This would be his home now for the next seven years, and that, he could deal with.

McGonagall pointed to a staircase," Boys dorm is on the right." Tom nodded and McGonagall left. He climbed to the upstairs dorm and picked the bed in the corner. He didn't have anything to unpack so Tom set his wand on the bed stand and lay down. He would have to ask Dumbledore if he could get a robe and pajamas tomorrow, as he was still wearing the striped Azkaban prisoner uniform. Not that he really cared what he was wearing, but it would be nice if he made a better impression on the Hogwarts staff over the next week.

He sighed; everything was going to be different now. He knew he should be happy, but he really wasn't. Sure his father wouldn't be able to hurt him anymore that was good, he guessed. He was still his father though, and he knew he would never be able to let that go. He still didn't really believe them about all the crimes his father had supposedly committed. He just couldn't have done those things to other wizards, it wasn't like that. His father had always ranted about the inferiority of muggles and he understood the man killed a nations worth of muggles. He knew that was wrong and illegal. In fact, he hated himself for doing the same. He knew that just for the muggles alone his father should be in Azkaban, heck Tom should be in Azkaban too. He deserved it. But the things his father had supposedly done to other wizards, his peers. Tom wouldn't believe those things, he couldn't.

He remembered the night two weeks ago when they had found them. Tom had been lying in bed staring at the ceiling listening to the sound of some innocent muggle scream, when it had suddenly stopped. His first thought was that she had died but then his father had burst into Tom's room dragging the woman, very much alive, by the hair. His eyes had been wild, "They discovered us boy. We have to go now. Grab my hand," he had yelled. Tom grabbed his wand and reached for his father's hand obediently. A spell shot in between them before they could apparate though. Ten wizards burst into the room and his father fought them brilliantly, disarming four and killing the fifth. Looking back Tom knew that was wrong too. He was just used to the idea of his father killing. He was under attack at that moment and Tom had used that as an excuse for the poor auror's death. That was when the remaining five got the better of his father, disarming him and knocking him to the ground. Tom had just stood there frozen watching the event unfold.

"Kill em boy. I know you can do it. This is the moment we've been training for, "His father had yelled at him. He couldn't do it though. He just stood there and looking stupidly at his five attackers. The five men were extremely capable, and jumped on his hesitation knocking him to the ground next to his father. He would never see his father again now, and everyone was telling him it was for the better. When he was thinking rationally he agreed. Unfortunately men rarely think rationally.

Tom sighed and rolled over, closing his eyes. After another moment or two sleep overtook him

_A seven year old boy stood in beside the bed. His hair was brown and hung like a dirty mop on his head. At one point in time Tom had looked exactly the same as the boy who now stood in front of him. The only thing that set them apart it was the eyes. This boy's dark eyes had a look of determination on them. They were always like that, always showing his complete and absolute determination to survive in his own way, by his own right. Tom was often ridiculed by his father for not wearing that look. He said that he needed to be stronger, that his own eyes showed weakness and were too soft. He needed to look more like his twin brother, more like Jonathan._

"_He did it I know he did," Jonathan was saying._

"_Did what?" Tom asked sleepily._

"_Killed her," Jonathan replied back harshly_

_Tom shook his head, "He wouldn't do that."_

"_Not everyone in the world is good Tom. Father isn't going to rehabilitate himself and we will never be your perfect family," Jonathan sneered, "I'm going to ask him. Let's see what he says happened."_

"_No," Tom replied panicked, "He'll hurt you."_

_The vision shifted, now Jonathan was staring at someone else with his hard eyes," Long live Harry Potter." He said it like one would say their final words. Not in a sad way, nor regretful, but rather with resolve. _

_That's when the fire started. Jonathan was no longer in Tom's sight, nothing was. Every inch of his body burned, screaming with pain, begging for relief. The fire took over his entire conscious. He could not smell, see, taste, or hear. Oh but he could feel. _

Tom was sitting strait up in his bed. His prison outfit was soaked through in clammy sweat and his throat felt hoarse from screaming in his sleep. His wand was in his hand though he didn't remember picking it up. He held it high pointing it at some invisible treat. He was breathing heavily as if he had just run ten miles, and he had run ten miles many times in the past.

McGonagall burst through the door way into the dorm, "Good lord I thought someone was dying," she exclaimed. She was breathing heavily too. She must have run up several fights of stairs to get to the Gryffindor common room.

Tom lowered his wand, "Someone was" he whispered to himself.

"What? Speak up Tom," McGonagall said.

Tom shook his head, "Nothing. It was just a nightmare." Tom glanced down at his arms. His tattoos weren't outlined in an irritated red so the pain must not have been real. It was just a nightmare, he told himself.

"Do you have a lot of nights like this?" McGonagall asked worried.

Tom nodded, "Ever since my brother died. Always the same dream. It didn't matter before, I lived in a cave."

McGonagall opened her mouth to say something more but was interrupted when Snape burst into the room with his wand out ready to attack. He too looked winded, but when he saw Tom's condition he immediately lowered his wand, "Nightmares?" he asked tiredly, it seemed he didn't have the energy to be sarcastic and demeaning at the moment. Tom nodded.

"About your past?" Snape asked. Tom nodded again. "Before you go to bed from now on point your wand at your bed frame and say Muffliato," he told Tom.

"What's it do?" Tom asked.

"When you wake up screaming anyone who is outside the range of the boundaries you set won't be able to hear you. It will allow you to sleep in the dorm without waking the other kids," Snape explained.

Tom nodded and the two professors returned to their own beds, "Mufialto." Tom whispered. He lied back down and fell back asleep. When he woke up the next morning no one was there responding to his screams.


	3. Chapter 3

The next week was the longest one in Tom's short miserable life. He received the daily profit on a well daily basis. Every day his father made the front page. His trial lasted all of six days. Each one there was some new publication on something shocking that he said. Apparently they could've locked him up after the first hour but they were solving so many missing persons cases they let it drag on. It must run in the family the whole taking responsibilities for your actions because neither he nor his father had made any attempt to prove their innocence.

Tom spent most of his time in the library looking things up about the first wizarding war. He needed to know more. Unfortunately the books were hopelessly unhelpful. They covered the basics or the basics of the specifics. The writers of these books were never close enough to the real fight to know anything. Only Voldemort himself would be able to tell him about his mother. Only his father would be able to confirm the accusations that he would be sent to prison for. He needed more than a book he needed to hear it from the source. Tom was starting to understand Jonathan's need to ask his father himself what had happened to his mother. Not that he would be able to find a book written on Augustine York or Jonathan Riddle. Tom's father spent his life living in secret. The things he wanted to know were never public enough to be put into any written went to the library every day though looking for a clue that was not there. He almost fell asleep a few times too but he stopped himself. No need to wake anyone else up from his nightmares.

He asked Dumbledore what he knew about his adopted father and his mother on Sunday morning that week. He knew the students would be returning that evening and he didn't want them to know about his past. He had to get all this done before they got there.

When he asked Dumbledore didn't respond at first, "I knew your father of course. He went to Hogwarts a few years before I was headmaster. That's where he met Voldemort. The two were close when they went to school and that's why I think of all followers Voldemort had the most respect for him. He probably even helped Voldemort in his early… work. He was never a leader though he doesn't have the charisma for it. He needed that little extra direction that Voldemort was able to give him. That's the extent that I knew him, he wasn't exactly a teacher's pet, you see. As for your mother I can't tell you much without a name. You look very much like your real father. Pre-Voldemort that is. By the height of his power he had lost any trace of the first year that never knew magic prior to Hogwarts. It would be a waste for me to guess at which girl in the thousands that I knew who you look the most like. If you want to know more I suggest you talk to Professor Snape."

Tom thought back to the few times Snape had spoken to him prior. He seemed to understand him in a way that the other strangers didn't. He knew how to avoid waking others when you had chronic nightmares and how to cover a dark mark. A dark mark...," He was a death eater wasn't he?" Tom asked

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled with something that looked like remorse," Yes he was a misguided youth. It was too late though when he realized just how misguided he was. He is the only one who got out of Voldemort's cult with his life. He knew Augustine York personally. If you have any questions go to him he is probably more qualified to answer them."

Tom nodded. He spent the rest of the day searching for the potions master with no success. The castle was very active at that moment. The kitchen was bustling with house elves all cooking frantically. Most of the teachers were setting up class rooms but many had already finished. Snape had apparently finished much earlier and was out doing other business for the headmaster. It was approaching six now and becoming clear that he wasn't going to find Snape before the ceremony started. Apparently the students would arrive at six thirty.

That is when he bumped into his new defense against the dark arts teacher. It was a bit bigger than a bump though being that he nearly knocked the man over

"I'm sorry sir," Tom said, "l wasn't paying attention to where I was going. I was looking for someone."

"Y-Y-Yes w-well that's o-o-k," The man stammered out. He was wearing a brown cloak with a red lining and a white turban on his head, "Y-y-you m-must b-b-be T-tom. I'm P-p-professor Q-Quarel, t-t-the D-defense against the D-d-d-dark a-arts teacher."

Quarel reached out his had shakily and Tom took it. He felt a nervous feeling in his chest and he could feel the adrenaline rush through his veins when he shook hands with the professor. Suddenly Tom became acutely aware of his wand that rested in his right pocket. He had been taught since the age of three to know an enemy when he saw one, Quarel was an enemy. He looked weak on the outside between his stammer and his shakiness but it was his eyes that gave it away. There is a certain look that a man gives you when he is sizing you up. Quarel had a peculiar way of doing it shaking his hand and not making eye contact, but it was his ever so subtle flicker of the eyes towards his bandaged hands that gave him away. Tom had been trained to spot things like that, little hints, and he always knew that he was exceptional at it.

Tom nodded, "I better be going to the dining hall then before I'm late. The ceremony is supposed to start soon."

Quarel gave Tom a nervous smile, "O-o-o-of c-course"

With that Tom bolted away as fast as he could without looking peculiar. On his way up he noticed some of the older kids starting to arrive. He quickly fell in step behind two Hufflepuff boys.

They were laughing and joking with each other. The one clapping his hand on the other's back, "I don't think that's what she meant Diggory," he was saying to the other. Clearly they were too preoccupied to notice that there was a new kid following behind them.

The dining hall was really decked out for their first night at Hogwarts. Dumbledore was already seated in his chair in the center of the teacher's table. Snape was sitting up there too so that was probably why he couldn't find him the past hour. He was still working on the explanation for the rest of the day. The Gryffindor table looked relatively empty. There was a few people already there of course, a snooty looking red head at the closer end of the table, a strong boy with a buzz towards the middle, a girl with dark hair pulled into a pony tail next to him. All of them seemed preoccupied with looking for old friends. Well obviously Tom wasn't one of them being that technically he was a first year. He picked a seat closer to the teachers table that was currently deserted.

He watched as the other students filled in. There was another two red headed boys that looked like twins whom were smiling and joking with each other that caught his attention. They looked like they were about his age and watching them he couldn't help but wonder what it would have been like to come here with Jonathan. There was no point in dwelling on the past of course

At six thirty the ceremony started. The doors opened and Professor McGonagall led the first years down the aisle with the sorting hat in her hand. It was singing some song that Tom didn't really pay attention to. He was too busy scanning the first years.

McGonagall stood behind a chair that was elevated in front of the teacher's table and started calling names. The first to be called was a girl named Elanor Ashdown.

"Hmmm you are a very strong minded girl young lady. Well I must say that you have thought this out quite well. You will certainly find greatness in that house. Gryffindor," the hat called. The girl had had her eye's squeezed shut at that point and when the hat announced her name they whipped open to reveal striking blue eyes that were a large contrast from her curly brown hair. The Gryffindor table applauded loudly for their new member. She sat on Tom's side of the table, though not necessarily close to him. She had left sufficient space for friends to come and join her.

"Scott McNight," McGonagall called next. A boy stepped forward from the crowd looking like he was going to puke. He was short and scrawny for an eleven year old with dirty blond hair that protruded from his head in a mess of tight curls. His most noticeable feature though was the pair of glasses that sat crocked on his face. The kid must be blind or pretty close to it because the glasses were really thick. He walked clumsily to the chair and the hat was placed on his head. It was huge on him pushing his fat glasses down to his nose.

"Hmmm maybe Hufflepuff for you, but there is something else. It is faint very faint yes but it is there. The potential bravery you carry in the deepest of places. Hmmmm yes Gryffindor." He called.

The boy had no reaction to his placement. He just hopped down from the seat and quickly made his way to the Gryffindor table. He sat down across from Tom though he avoided eye contact and said nothing.

After the blond boy was called Tom could feel boredom starting to claim him as his eyes glazed over. There must be at least a hundred of them maybe more. There was no pattern to how people were sorted. A blonde boy would be put into Slytherin , then a red head would come to Gryffindor, then maybe another to Slytherin or Hufflepuff. The entire process wasn't all that exciting to Tom, though everyone else seemed ecstatic about the whole endeavor giving new members standing ovations. Tom might have actually fallen asleep but something distracted him.

"Harry Potter," McGonagall called. Tom's eyes darted to the boy that was walking up to the hat. He had jet black hair and green eyes that were currently looking around the room nervously. Tom could hear his brother's words echoing in his head _Long Live Harry Potter_ he had said. Tom knew those were Jonathan's last words, the ones that his attacker had killed him for. Here stood the very boy who he had died for. Tom analyzed him. He didn't look all that threatening. He was sure that if they dueled, Tom would win before Harry could so much as blink. He was the one who killed the Dark Lord though so he must have some hidden power or something. He couldn't count how many times his Father had ranted over how he would kill Harry Potter for the "crime he had committed against the greater good."

The sorting hat had finished consulting with itself now and called the boy's house, "Gryffindor" he called. The Gryffindor table erupted in a way they didn't for any other student. Tom didn't react though he just sat there and stared. He seemed to be very good at not reacting recently. Harry Potter jumped down from the chair and walked over to join a red head boy, who was sitting further down the table. Tom spent the rest of the ceremony examining Potter from a distance.

Finally after what seemed like a millennium it ended and they were allowed to eat. The amount of food they had was unbelievable. In the years spent with his father hunger had become a close friend to Tom. His father was too absorbed in his own planning to notice his sons' need for food. If Tom asked for food he would be criticized and told that hunger was a weakness needed to be overcome. He stuffed himself today though. He could get used to that.

"I'm Scott McNight," the blonde boy from across the table said to him. It was ten minutes into dinner at that point and Tom had a feeling that the only reason the boy braved talking to him was because he obviously had no friends to talk to either.

"I'm Tom," Tom told him purposely leaving out his last name.

Scott nodded," What year are you in?"

Tom thought this over for a second before answering, "I'm a first year too. I'm thirteen but there were some… extrenuating circumstances that caused me to start school late."

Scott seemed to accept his answer without asking any further questions, "Yeah so you um know much about magic."

Tom nodded," I do."

"I don't. My parents were humans- er muggles so this is the first I've seen of any of this. It's pretty cool though huh." Scott said. Tom had heard of wizards being born from muggles before. His father told him that they were bad and unnatural. Mudbloods he had called them. Tom didn't say anything about that though. He had gotten the feeling that it wasn't very nice and the last thing Tom wanted to do was to make the only kid who talked to him so fare hate him.

Scott dominated the conversation for the rest of the night. He told Tom all about his muggle parents and their lives. His father was a boxer apparently and his mother a teacher. Scott had gone to a muggle school for the last five years and Tom got the feeling that he wasn't exactly accepted there. He sort of understood how someone might find him annoying because, well, he was. He talked a lot and about stuff a normal wizard would find boring. Tom wasn't a normal wizard though and Scott had a very honest air about him. He liked that. He never met someone who just put their past out there like that. Tom knew from the hour that he had talked to Scott that he wasn't a threat and that he could be trusted.

"You don't smile that much do you," Scott said towards the end of dinner.

Tom thought on that. He didn't remember really smiling or being happy since his brother died, "I'll smile when there is something to smile about," Tom replied bluntly. Scott shrugged and continued talking. Another thing he liked about Scott, he didn't pry.

They proceeded to go to the common room after dinner. A prefect named Percy Weasley led them there and explained all the who what when and where's about dorm life. Scott picked the bed next to Tom's that night and within ten minutes was asleep. Tom took his wand and muttered,"Muffiliato" quickly before lying down to go to sleep. It had been a long day that day but finally life at Hogwarts seemed like it would be manageable.


	4. Chapter 4

Snape watched as the first years exited his class. He didn't have words to describe the extreme distaste he held for the young runts. Thus it is only natural he be aggravated to find that one of them had stayed back to bother him with some unintelligent question. Tom Riddle approached Snape's desk slowly. Snape knew that the boy had been meaning to talk to him for a week now. A few of the other teachers told his that Tom had been searching for him the day the first years got sorted. He had been purposely avoiding the confrontation. The boy was raised by a death eater and he suspected that any conversation they had was going to be full of uncomfortable questions.

"Hey um Professor. I was wondering if you could answer some questions?" Tom asked

Snape sighed," I don't suppose that you want to know about potions," he asked hopefully.

Tom shook his head, "No I made my first cure for boils potions when I was four I believe I'm quite clear on how to do it by now. I was wondering if you could tell me about my father."

Snape's eyes grew dark. He wasn't entirely certain this talk was going to be pleasant before this point, now he was sure, "Augustine York?"

Tom nodded. Snape thought back to his several encounters that he had had with the man. He didn't want to bring that knowledge of York into this boy's life. Whatever had happened over the last few years Tom seemed to have a connection to him. It was as if he really wanted York to be that perfect father and it was crushing him that he wasn't. Snape tried to make it seem like he knew nothing," What, may I ask, would delude you into coming across the notion that I have any knowledge of the man."

Tom looked at his feet, "Dumbledore said you used to be one of them and that you have a mark like me. He said that you knew him."

Snape nodded. Dumbledore must think that it was the boys right to know. Snape disagreed, but he was in no situation to do anything about it. He scowled slightly before starting to tell Tom about his father's past, "As I would hope you have inferred by now, The Dark Lord was a very secretive man. He was cautious and was not quick to confide in any of his of his followers. York was one of the few of us who He seemed to trust. No one was privileged with the knowledge of York's actions and whereabouts."

"But you knew him right?" Tom interrupted nervously.

"I was one of the few graced by his presence, yes,"Snape said, his lips curling slightly, "Most of what I know of him has been passed to me through rumor, the most reliable of which I heard from Bellatrix Lestrange."

"What did she say?" Tom asked, his voice sounded scared.

"I believe the muggle word for it is serial killer," Snape pondered," He murdered for his own personal need. The Dark Lord was a convenience for him, an outlet for his own obsession with murder. According to Lestrange, he went mad after he graduated from Hogwarts. By the time The Dark Lord took him in he had already killed several wizards and many more muggles. From my own personal experience I find this account plausible, though it may or may not be accurate. Occasionally a wizard or which would disappear, one that wasn't on His list, no one truly knows what happened to these wizards; however, we all have our… suspicions."

With every word that Snape said, Tom looked more and more miserable. There was one more thing that he knew of Augustine York. This final account was quite grotesque and Snape thought it best if the boy was saved from such a memory.

"I want to know," Tom said his voice cracking. Snape was startled momentarily by the Tom's knowledge that he was holding something back. Snape had fooled Voldemort himself that he knew less than he actually did, but this kid seemed to be able to see right through even the tiniest of lies.

Snape bit his lip and continued, "The Dark Lord liked to gather his followers, to show us all the extent of his greatness," Snape sneered out the word greatness like it was poison, "A young man named Hunter chose one of these meetings to voice his dissent. It was moronic of Hunter to actively defy Him in the presence of an army of Death Eaters. By no means did his accusations waver anyone's positions, The Dark Lord actively laughed at him. It was York who executed Hunter's punishment." Snape had no intention of elaborating more on the subject.

Tom sat on a desk in front of him, looking unnaturally pale. "What did he do?" the boy asked in a hoarse whisper.

"I believe it is time that you leave now," Snape said curtly.

"Please professor, I need to know," Tom pleaded.

"Although you seem to think you are an adult, you aren't," Snape snapped," There are some things that you simply don't need to heard."

Tom looked down at the floor, grief was written across the boy's face. Snape could still picture York's violet eyes glowing like a madman; his copper hair was blowing wildly in the wind as he held Hunter's mangled body high for everyone to see. Tom didn't need the gory details on his conscience.

"He told me that once a death eater always a death eater. You left. How?" Tom asked his voice cracking again. He had yet to shed a tear though it looked like he might soon.

Snape's features hardened as he thought back to the reason why he left. His Lily lying on the floor, dead, her green eyes open and lifeless, only to reappear again in the form of a retched second coming of James. He shut his eyes tried to focus just on the leaving, and not the why.

"I am not a fool, walking around announcing that I no longer followed the Dark Lord," Snape spat, "He never knew that I no longer considered myself allied with Him. As far as He was concerned I was a double agent."

"Do you think that my father ever cared? Did he ever feel sorry for it all?" Tom whispered. Snape knew that Tom already knew the answer. He needed to hear it out loud though.

Snape shook his head, "No I don't think he is even capable of such an emotion." Tom nodded and Snape knew that the indirect message was received. York didn't care about Tom as a person, as a son. He only cared that he was a weapon to be used in the mass destruction of the muggle race.

"Do you think any of the others can stop? I mean are they all monsters too?" Tom asked.

Snape thought about that one for a minute. Tom shouldn't care about whether the others could are bad or not. They don't relate to him. Snape eyed the bandages wrapped around his hands. He was the others, "The others made a choice to follow. Whether they regret that decision or not, is their business. It was a choice though, leaving would be their choice too," Snape replied.

Tom nodded though he didn't look convinced. Snape frowned inwardly. Tom reminded Snape of himself. Not when he was thirteen, but when he realized that the Dark Lord was going to kill his Lily. The boy was probably feeling betrayed, and grief stricken. The worst part was the pain though. Pain derived from nowhere with no source. The never ending pain that made you question why you get out of bed every morning. It was the type that didn't heal with time. The only thing that came with time was the knowledge of how to mask it, to make the world think that you were ok. It didn't have to be that way with this boy. Lily was his life and he will never truly live again without her here. This boy has a chance to get over it to move on. He had lost his twin brother. At the time it was all Tom had, but Snape knew that it wasn't the end of Tom's life. He still had a chance to find someone who could make it better, someone else whom he could love. Snape would never have that, no his life ended when Lily's did.

Snape thought briefly about comforting the boy before pushing the thought away. He was never good at showing such sympathy, and any attempt he made would be useless. Tom looked at the clock, "I should get going I'm going to miss transfiguration."

"You missed lunch. Do you want to eat here I will write a note excusing you?" Snape offered feeling uncomfortable.

Tom paused, "Yeah. Thanks."

Snape nodded and got him the sandwich that he had originally planned to eat for lunch handing it to Tom.

"Oh one more question. Why does everyone call me Tom. They call everyone else by their last name?" Tom asked

"Riddle is the name that belongs to the Dark Lord. You are not the Dark Lord," Snape replied.

Tom nodded finished his sandwich and ran off to catch the remaining minutes of his transfigurations class.


	5. Chapter 5

It had been a month and a half now since Tom had spoken with Snape. After the talk his nightmare had changed. No longer did he see his twin brother's death instead he saw everyone else's. His father would stand on top of a mountain of bodies staring at Tom like he wanted him to do something. In the air was the mangled corpse of the death eater Snape had spoken of, Hunter. He could hear all of them screaming in his dream. Thousands of muggles and wizards all screaming. Some would call out for some loved one who was not there to save them, and others cried out to Tom begging for him to stop his father.

Every now and then, when his nighmare was particularly vivid and he was feeling exceptionally miserable, he wouldn't get out of bed. He would just lay there and wait for the day to end. At first it made Dumbledore mad, but when he saw the look on Tom's face he didn't push the issue.

Tom wanted to speak to Harry Potter. Not necessarily to ask what he knew about death eaters and the dark lord because rumor had it he was raised by muggles and just discovered magic two months ago. He wanted to get to know the boy that his brother trusted blindly. When he died he chose his words carefully and Tom thought that maybe it would make the pain in his chest a bit less sharp if he knew that Potter was good. He hadn't gotten around to it yet though.

Scott and Tom had become best friends. It was more of a companionship than a friendship though. Tom did not joke with Scott, he didn't share secrets with him, or even practice magic with him. Scott wasn't well liked among the other young wizards, he was a little too energetic for them. Tom simply put up with Scott. Meaning he was his partner in group projects, neighbor at the lunch table, and tutor when he needed one. In return Scott asked no questions. Not when Tom didn't get out of bed, or when he did something incredibly advanced during class, or even when he refused to tell anyone his last name. It was an odd pairing but it worked.

Tom of course was doing his best to be average. He never raised his hand in class, always did spells incorrectly on purpose, and sometimes, during potions, he would take twenty minutes to start so he didn't finish early. To someone who was watching it was obvious that he was much more advanced than the other first years. Lucky for Tom, no one was watching, except Scott of course.

That particular day Tom was walking towards the library. It was a Sunday and he was alone. They had to do a project for Wizards History on the history of the ministry which of course he already had memorized. Unfortunatly, he had to cite a book for this project, and so he had to find one that matched his already written paper.

As he walked down the hallway of the third floor he passed an closed evacuated classroom. There was a whimpering noise coming from behind the door. Tom recognized the sound immediately. That was the sound of fear. Tom felt for his wand in his pocket. He could have it out in a second, but for now he left it there. He opened the door cautiously.

Inside there were four boys, all first years. Three of the boys were wearing green ties around their necks. They surrounded the fourth who was backed into the corner. Tom immediatly recognized the mess of blonde curls that sat on top of the final boy's head. It was Scott. Tom examined the strrangers carefully before making himself known. He vaguely recognized them from some of his classes though they hadn't spoken before. The first was a large stupid boy that slightly resembled a brick wall. His name was Boyle. The middle boy was significantly shorter with bright blond hair and grey eyes. His name was Malfoy. Tom had heard stories of this boy's father from his own. Lucius Malfoy was a death eater apparently, although his father had often voiced his opinion stating that the man was too much of coward to deserve the title. The final boy was also large and maybe even dumber than the first. His name was Crabbe.

Malfoy had his wand pointed at Scott's throat. The other two were simply blocking any escape routes making any thought of running away imposible. "Whats the matter McNight I thought Gryffindors were supposed to be brave?" Malfoy was saying. Scott did look pretty scared at that moment. Tom noted that Scott's fat glasses were sitting across the room on the floor. The glass of one lense had a large crack running through the middle.

Tom walked over to the glasses and picked them up, "Really Malfoy? I mean it is one thing to take a mate on one on one. Its another when your opponent is blind and you have him outnumbered with two giants with hallow heads. I don't think that Scotts the coward here."

Malfoy spun on his heels and glared at Tom, "Yeah well you want to know exactly how brave I am?"

Tom raised his eyebrows amused, "Are you going to attack me Malfoy because I really think that you might want to rethink that."

"You don't even have a wand," Malfoy sneered at Tom.

Tom's wand weighed heavy in his pocket. It was tempting to pull it out and really show Malfoy what fear really felt like but he resisted it. He would be thrown into Azkaban in a second if he attacked this obnoxious pure blood brat. "I don't need one. In fact I think it's illegal for me to raise my wand to you but I can take all three of you without one," Tom said.

Malfoy turned red, "Wingardium Leviosa" he cried throwing the basic spell at Tom. Tom side stepped and the spell missed.

"Is that all you can do. Just like your father you are. A weak coward," Tom taunted.

Malfoy got redder. The boy was quickly loosing his composure, "What do you know of my father?"

"I know the company he keeps, or rather kept. I know that when it came to it he couldn't stand by the decision he made. I mean if you are going to commit some of the most horrible crimes imaginable you should at least own up to it. Your father denied it and to this day lives a lie. He should be in Azkaban with his friends," Tom said, his face dead serious. Not one of his words was original, he was simply reiterating the opinions held by his father.

Malfoy growled and yelled,"Stupify! Stupify!"

The curse that came towards Tom now was wrong. The color was pink instead of red. It was a pretty advanced spell for a first year and clearly Malfoy hadn't mastered it yet. It didn't matter though because they seemed to curve around Tom even though both should have hit him. Malfoy let out a shrieking sound and started to move his arm to cast another spell. His wand flew from his hand though when he reached the peak of his over exaggerated movement.

"Have you ever wondered why when a wizard is a child they can do advanced magic with their mind? Like make the wind blow or objects levitate. Then suddenly when they get a wand this ability disappears. Well it doesn't the wand is simply an easier more powerful way to channel magic. However if trained correctly a wizard can do extraordinary things without their wand. My father taught me that. As he taught me about your father and the coward that he was. Now given, I can't do much without a wand. However you can do less with one. You can't even cast a stunning spell properly."

Malfoy stared at Tom his eyes wide. Scott, on the floor behind Malfoy, was also staring. "Who the hell is your father?"

Tom paused, "Augustine York _was_ my father. He isn't anymore." The words hurt when they came out. It was a lie, in his heart York would always be his father; however it couldn't matter anymore. The man he knew was a monster, and he had to move on.

Malfoy paled, "Your name is Tom York?" he choked out.

Tom shook his head, "My name is Tom Riddle but York was my father. I promise you if that leaves this room you will wish you were dead."

Malfoy put his hand in the air like he was making a Boy Scout promise, "I promise I won't tell anyone,"he said in a squeeky voice.

"Leave," Tom commanded. Malfoy and his two large baboons ran out of the room scared half to death. Scott stayed on the ground and stared in awe at Tom.

"Wow. I didn't know you could do that. That is so cool," Scott started to gush. Tom took out his wand and pointed it at Sam's glasses. He used the reparo spell without saying a word and the glasses righted themselves. Sam's eyes widened.

"Promise you won't tell anyone anything. I'm not really supposed to be doing things like that," Tom asked.

Scott nodded, "Sure." He looked like he wanted to ask more of Tom but was holding himself back.

"Do you still have the Profit from the beginning of the school year?" Tom asked. Scott nodded, "The one from the night you got here. The front page article read it."

Scott nodded again and shifted his weight awkwardly not knowing what to say next. This must be a first because the boy was usually the biggest chatterbox Tom had ever met. "I need to go to the library. Want to come?" Tom asked.

Scott nodded and smiled at Tom, "Sure." And so the two boys turned and headed down the hall to the library, the blonde haired one with a little more bounce in his step.

* * *

><p>Hey so Tom's best friend's name is Scott not Sam. If I wrote Sam by accident its because I'm reading a book with the a character named Sam in it and I must have accedentally glazed over when typing Scott's name. I'm proffreading all my chapters to fix the mistake but if I miss one or do it again in the future please ignore it<p> 


	6. Chapter 6

Tom walked down the hall. Halloween had arrived, tonight was the big feast for it, in fact that was where he was headed at the moment. After he had stepped in on Malfoy they had stopped bugging Scott and thankfully the three Slytherin boys had kept their large unintelligent mouths shut. Scott had gone back through the daily profit later that day and read the article about Tom's father. Tom didn't explain anything further than what the article said. All Scott knew was that York raised Tom and now the man was in Azkaban.

"Ung," someone said as Tom accidentally walked into them. A first year was on the ground with his books scattered.

"Sorry," Tom said automatically. He held his hand out to the boy he knocked over.

A pair of emerald green eyes looked up at him," That's okay. I wasn't paying attention to where I was going." The boy gathered his books and stood up, "I'm Harry Potter," he said holding his hand out to Tom. Tom had spent a lot of time watching Potter over the past month. The boy wasn't really exceptional at any particular subject. Never the best in class though he did have an affinity in Defense Against the Dark Arts. Nothing he did suggested that he had the capability of taking down the Dark Lord. Tom had considered approaching him a few times though he never did. Because Tom kept such a low profile during class, Harry Potter probably wasn't even aware that he was taking first year classes.

"Tom," he replied shaking the other boy's hand.

Potter's eyebrows came together as he looked at Tom's face, "Have we met before?"

Tom shook his head," No I take first year classes though so we have a lot of classes together."

The younger boy shifted his weight onto his other foot looking guilty for not recognizing his classmate, "Oh well you look kind of older than an eleven year old so I figured you were a third or fourth year or something." He said uncomfortably.

Tom shook his head, "I am older, I started school late. I've been trying to not be noticed during class that's all. You don't know me because I've been doing a good job," he replied to Potter in all seriousness.

Potter looked reassured by this new information. Unfortunately he wasn't Scott and proceeded to ask the question that Tom had been avoiding since the beginning of the year, "Why?"

Tom shrugged, "Because," he replied. Tom could tell that the boy wanted to know more, but he respected Tom's wishes for secrecy and just nodded.

"I should be going," he said.

Tom nodded and watched as the famous Harry Potter walked away. Tom sighed and continued his walk towards the Dining Room. Scott was already there saving a seat for him. Scott had wanted to get there early so that they could get some work done after dinner that night. When Tom sat down his friend started up his usual chatter with Tom nodding occasionally and contributing little to the conversation. Before long the entire room was filled with every student in the school. Tom could see Harry Potter sitting down towards the end of the table next to the red head boy that he was constantly with.

"I don't get it," Scott was saying, "I mean I swear I wave the wand right every time, but the stupid thing just explodes. I swear I was doing everything-"

All of a sudden Professor Quirrel burst into the hall, "Troll-in the dungeon-thought you ought to know" he said. Then he dropped like a rock. The moment their professor hit the floor there was a mad rush towards the door as the students tried to flee from a troll that wasn't in the room. Tom could practically taste the panic in the air as the school started to revert into an everyman for himself mood.

Dumbledore stopped them of coarse making sure everything was orderly. Something was bugging Tom though. When Quirrel ran into the room to warn everyone about the troll he should have seemed scared. He fainted after all there should have been fear in the man's eyes or voice or manner. It should have been there somewhere. There was no trace of fear though when he burst into the room. He was nervous, sure. He was always nervous though. Tom groaned in frustration there should have been fear he repeated to himself. He looked back over to where Quirrell had fainted, the man had gone. That reassured him of the fact even more. There were several potions that could make you drop like that and have you up seconds later. Even a good acting job could have pulled the dramatic faint off. There was nothing in this world that Tom hated more than good actors.

The rest of the students were all headed out the door now in orderly lines according to house. Tom turned and looked for Dumbledore. He wasn't there though, he must be out looking for the troll already. Tom spotted the wisp of a black cloak leaving through the door that lead out of the dining hall by the teachers table. Snape, he thought. He had to tell Snape.

Tom broke into a dead sprint towards the door. He heard Scott call for him from behind, but ignored it. He made it to the door in a matter of seconds as most students were heading out the one on the other end meaning there was little trafic for him to work his way through. He opened it to find Snape rummaging through a potions kit. The man pulled his wand out of it and turned to go hunt the troll. In stead he saw Tom.

"You should be with the other students," he told Tom. He didn't seem too mad though, most likely because if Tom ran into the troll he would have no problem getting rid of it.

"Something is wrong. Quirrell fainted back there but he wasn't afraid of the troll. There was no fear in him before he hit the ground. After he caused mass panic he disappeared. Forget the troll, I wouldn't be surprised if there wasn't one at all. Something is wrong," Tom said panting. Snape paused for a moment thinking. Then his head snapped up and he broke into a run heading back out the door.

Tom started to follow him, "Go back with the other students. If you're wrong and you follow me there is a chance you could be stuck in Azkaban for attacking a teacher," Snape called back. Tom nodded and ran in the opposite direction of Snape heading back towards Scott.

He found the Gryffindor house on the grounds outside by the quidditch pitch. His absence wasn't missed by anyone other than Scott.

"What was that?" Scott asked looking worried.

Tom looked over at Scott, "I had to talk to Professor Snape. I thought the troll was there because of me. Something my father sent. I was wrong though. The troll is here completely on accident," Tom lied. He probably could've told Scott the truth but it was a habit to lie. When no one knows the truth but you there is less an enemy can infer from a situation. Not that Scott was an enemy, it was just a habit. Tom dealt with things on his own and that was just how things were always going to be.

Waiting to be let back inside was agonizing. About fifteen minutes after Tom showed up the prefects realized that Harry Potter and two other kids were missing. That made Tom even more worried. Could Quirrell have been using the troll as a distraction to get rid of Harry Potter? If that was the truth that meant that Quirrell was probably a death eater and Tom let that go right under his nose. If Scott wasn't there talking about things that seemed trivial at the moment Tom might have gone crazy. Something about the unimportance of Scott's words was keeping him from exploding.

Finally after what seemed like hours the teachers came out to deliver the news to their students. Dumbledore held his wand to his throat, "I am happy to inform you that the troll has been successfully removed without any injury to our staff or students. It seems to have gotten lost and it was an unfortunate accident that it came into Hogwarts. You may all return to your meal now."

That told Tom relatively nothing about anything. At least he knew there was a troll now and that Potter was fine. Snape wasn't with Dumbledore when he announced that it was safe to return and neither was Quirrell so he had no way of knowing if he was right or not.

"Hey Scott I want to stop by the hospital wing before we go back to the common room. I'm running out of wrap for my arms," Tom said. Scott nodded and fell into step next to Tom.

"A troll. I can't believe it, I mean I hear trolls are huge and scary. Can you imagine if we ran into it before Quirrell warned us," Scott said with a shudder.

"Would've been bad," Tom muttered dishonestly. Trolls were large but they were also pretty stupid, kind of like the two baboons that followed Malfoy around. He had fought one once before when he was six. He and his brother spent fifteen minutes fighting the monster. At the time it was difficult, however they did win in the end. Now he doubted that a troll could so much as make him winded when he fought it.

They rounded the corner and entered Madame Pomfrey's hospital. The nurse was rummaging through her medicine cabinet looking for something when they walked into the room. All it took was a quick scan of the space to understand what was needed. Professor Snape was sitting on a hospital bed with his leg bleeding. It looked like he was bitten by some kind of animal.

"I thought Dumbledore said no one was hurt, "Scott blurted out upon seeing the potions teacher. Snape glanced up at the two students. For a moment he looked like he was going to yell at them, but when he saw Tom, his expression hardened and he stayed silent. Tom nodded in a motion so slight that only someone looking for the sign would be able to see. Tom had been right Quirrell was up to something that night and Snape had stopped him. By the look of the bite mark on Snape's leg Quirrell wasn't as incompetent as he appeared.

"Dumbledore probably didn't want to worry us Scott," Tom said. "I think that we will come back later."

The two boys left for the Gryffindor common room, the taller one with a lot more on his mind than normal.


	7. Chapter 7

The first quidditch match was that night, Gryffindor vs. Slytherin. Scott was having his normal over excited reaction to all new things magical and was practically bouncing off the walls with anticipation. Tom had never seen a quidditch match before because if his father took him to one they would have to pass a lot of security and they probably would've been caught. He wasn't particularly excited about the game though. A wizard born to wizard parents is supposed to see their first quidditch match with their family in a huge stadium rooting for their home team. This game was just going to be another reminder that he had no family anymore.

At the moment Tom and Scott were eating breakfast. Scott was shoveling mouthful after mouthful as if eating faster would make the game come quicker.

"Hey Tom what are ya doing for Christmas?" Scott asked between mouthfuls.

Tom shrugged. His father never had them celebrate anything before. He said that if you take the time to celebrate a holiday you are taking a dangerous break that gives your enemies the perfect opportunity to attack. On top of that he wasn't sure it was legal for him to go anywhere for Christmas break.

"I guess I'm just going to stay here I guess," he told Scott.

"My parents wanted to know if you wanted to come over to my house for the holidays. I know its like two months away but they wanted to know so…" Scott said.

Tom sat back in his seat considering the request. It would be nice to have someone to spend break with and Scott was his best friend. "I'll have to clear it with Dumbledore. I'm not sure whether I'm aloud to leave the castle or not. Stuff with my father you see," Tom said.

Scott grinned at his best friend, "I'm sure Dumbledore won't mind."

Tom nodded, Dumbledore wasn't really who he was worried about. Crouch on the other hand, he was the problem.

Scott went back to his normal ramblings about quidditch and how excited he was for the game. Before long the two were seated in the quidditch pitch waiting for the game to start. Scott was wide eyed as he watched Madame Hooch throw the quaffle into the air as the game started. Every few minutes a player would do something skilled like ride their broom upside down or hit a bluger at another player with their broom and Scott would point excitedly at the action and say, "Did you see that Tom" or "Wow that was soooo cool." The whole event kind of reminded Tom of babysitting a five year old who had just taken in a boat load of caffeine. He didn't really mind though. Scott was too preoccupied with his own excitement to notice the sour mood that Tom was in.

About a half an hour into the game things went wrong. Harry Potter was on his broom in the sky and he spotted the snitch. The minute he tried to move his broom though, it started to shake violently. It was like it was trying to shake him off. If Potter fell from that height he would die. No broom did that on purpose, Potter was being cursed. Tom scanned the crowd quickly and spotted Snape. He was muttering a spell that Tom recognized to be a counter animation curse. Most advanced wizards used their own counter curses and as far as Tom could tell Snape's was strong, but judging by the way the broom was trying to buck Potter, only a counter curse designed specifically for the one used on Potter could get rid of the broom's bucking completely. Snape's eyes quickly glanced at Tom's sending a silent message. Quirrell. Tom looked for the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher to find that he was muttering the animation curse under his breath while looking intently at Potter. He didn't stutter over one word now.

Tom gritted his teeth and glanced at Scott. His best friend was babbling in a panic about Potter, "Scott," Tom said silencing his best friend, "I want you to pretend that you are listening to me tell you something private."

Scott nodded confused. Tom covered his mouth so that anyone staring at them from the teacher's booth would think that Tom was just telling his friend something. Then he started to mutter his own counter animation curse trying to get the broom to stabilize. The broom continued to buck violently though with both his counter curses and Snape's having little effect on it. Tom groaned frustrated and started using another counter animation curse. This one was made up by his brother years ago. Potter was hanging on to the broom with one hand now as he dangled over the ground dangerously. The broom continued to try to shake its owner. Tom switched to his father's version of the counter animation curse. When he started to say this one the broom paused momentarily before continuing. The pause gave Potter a moment to add a second hand to the broom though. At that moment there was a scream from the teacher's booth. Tom ignored it and continued his counter curse but it was no longer needed. The broom had stopped shaking and before long Potter was back on his broom chasing the snitch. Tom sighed with relief and lowered his hand. He looked over at the teacher's booth to see Snape's robe on fire as he tried to stomp it out. Quirrell was on the ground looking disoriented. Another teacher was helping him up and for a moment, just a moment Quirrell's eyes met Tom's. Tom's tattoos tingled a little as the man's gaze passed over him. That made Tom even surer, Quirrell was a death eater.

Now that the ordeal was over Scott looked over and gave Tom a questioning look, "Later," Tom told him. Now that Tom had no doubt in his mind about Quirrell there would be no point in lying to Scott about it so he would explain it all in detail later. Scott quickly reverted back into the crazed fan version of himself now that the game was back underway. Gryffindor ended up winning when Potter caught the snitch in his mouth. Scott was on his feet screaming when he did it. Even Tom gave in a little and clapped for his house's win.

The rest of the day was a large party with a lot of gold and red. Scott had a blast as he had a very in depth conversation with one of the other kids about the game. Tom found the party tolerable which was a lot considering his aversion to large social gatherings and people in general. Everyone seemed to be turning a blind eye on the broom trying to throw Potter

It wasn't until bed time that Scott questioned him further on the days events. Tom wasn't going to be the one to bring it up and was just about to cast the mufiliato spell when Scott asked.

"So you going to tell me what was going on today?" he asked.

Tom glanced over at Scott who was sitting up in his bed gazing over at his best friend, "Yeah sure so the reason that Harry Potter's broom was trying to get rid of him was because someone had cast an animation spell on it. All animation spells are different so I don't know which one was used but basically it is a spell that causes objects which are usually inanimate to start moving. When I saw that happening I also saw Professor Snape in the teacher's booth chanting the counter spell. I also saw Professor Quirrell casting the actual spell. There are two ways to stop a spell like that, the first is to distract the person casting the spell. They need to have their full concentration for it to work. The second is to cast a counter spell. Counter animation spells are usually specialized because all animation spells are different. That means that my spell is different than Snape's. I didn't think that I could distract Quirrell from where we were so I started to caste mine hoping it would be more effective than Snape's. I'm not allowed to be casting spells on other people though. No one would have been mad if they knew what I was doing but from a distance its kind of hard to tell the distance between helping and hurting. That's why I covered my mouth and pretended to be talking to you. Luckily someone else distracted Quirrell before he killed Potter," Tom explained.

Scott looked somewhere in between amazed, unhappy, and confused, "Why would Quirrell want to hurt Harry?" Scott asked.

"I think he's a death eater," Tom said bluntly. Scott opened his mouth to start to protest but Tom cut him off, "You know when he came in and warned every one about the troll. He was up to something that way too. I warned Snape that day when I saw the signs and he went to go find Quirrell. He ended up with an oversized bite mark on his leg. Harry Potter was also conveniently missing at the pitch while we waited for the troll to be cleared out. He had went to go save to Granger girl. If Quirrell studied Potter enough he could have easily known that he was going to go after Granger. It would have been simple enough then to get a troll and plant it in the building to distract everyone while he went to go hunt Potter while he was alone and vulnerable. Snape stopped him though. Then today he was trying to kill Potter during the game. I know for a fact there isn't a death eater alive who doesn't want Potter dead. He was the reason Voldemort fell in the first place after all."

Scott pulled his legs to his chest and looked at his feet, "How though? Quirrell is supposed to be our teacher. I mean don't they put people through some type of interview or something first? I mean Dumbledore wouldn't have hired a death eater, especially the year Harry Potter came to Hogwarts." Tom thought briefly of Snape and how Dumbledore had hired a death eater knowingly. He was about to say something about it but then he looked at Scott who was wearing his conflicted emotions clearly on his face. The idea of a death eater, an evil wizard, being in such a close proximity seemed to really take a toll on him. It was more than that though, Scott was so innocent, and he trusted everyone regardless, always looking for the best in people. Scott had put his trust in every one of the teachers at Hogwarts and the idea that one of them shouldn't be trusted must have made him feel betrayed almost.

_Not everyone in this world is good Tom._ Jonathan's words echoed in Tom's head. Scott wasn't so different from Tom prior to his brother's death. Not so different from him now actually. Jonathan used to get so frustrated at him when he defended his father. He would try and try to convince Tom that the man was inherently evil. Tom never listened always defending the man who raised him. Even now he didn't really believe the crimes that he had supposedly admitted to. Their conversations were always relatively calm though. They would argue about it during the night when their father was asleep in hushed whispers. It wasn't until that night that Tom realized how passionate his brother was on the subject. That night was the first time his brother had ever yelled at him.

Now as Tom watched his best friend struggle with the knowledge that this man, who he barely knew, could be bad he understood why Jonathan never actually lost his temper with Tom until that night. Innocence is bliss and Jonathan didn't have the heart to take that away from Tom, just as Tom couldn't sit there and watch as Scott fought with himself over whether Quirrell was bad or not.

"Don't worry if Dumbledore didn't know he knows now. Anyway there are countless other wizards here that are just as powerful as Quirrell. If he tries anything again someone will stop him," Tom said quietly trying to be as reassuring as possible.

Scott nodded immediately taking Tom's words as correct, "Yeah your right. Anyways you seem to know enough that you could probably take him on and your just a first year. Imagine what the seventh years can do and the other teachers. Dumbledore is supposed to be the best wizard in the world right?" Scott said brightly his smile returning to his face.

Tom nodded and gave Scott a small smile. An extremely small one. Seeing that Scott seemed to get even more peppy being that that was probably the first smile Tom had given anyone in five years.

"Night Tom," Scott said, plopping himself backward into a laying position. Tom didn't reply and just laid down to fall asleep for his awaiting night mare. He didn't have one that night though. Instead he was awakened by beams of sunlight coming through the window on the Sunday morning. It was his first night in a long time that he didn't wake up to the sound of his own screams.

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><p>AN So this my favorite chapter in this story yet. I loved going a bit more in depth with Scotts character and it shows because this chapter was about seven hundred words longer than most of the other six. Tell me what you think.


	8. Chapter 8

Tom sat in the metal chair with the shackles on his arms and hands and the black cage around him for the second time now in the past six months. This time was for his first "checkup". Crouch wanted an update on how Tom was doing, so he made both Tom and Dumbledore come back for what seemed like a second trial. The difference though was that this time the room was almost empty. The ministry's employees had better things to do the second time around. This time it was just Tom, Dumbledore, Crouch, and two aurors attending the trial slash checkup. The first auror was a large black man wearing a cloak that was about the same blue as Dumbledore's. The other auror was an older than the first with short wiry hair and an intimidating expression on his face. The darker skinned auror stood beside Tom's cage as if to make sure that he didn't make a run for it while the other one stood by Crouch acting as a body guard.

Dumbledore looked peeved by the cage and shackles as he stood on the opposite side of Tom's prison. Crouch on the other hand seemed edgy like he didn't think that the cage and two aurors were enough.

"Well let's get this over with," Crouch said as it appeared no one else was going to show up," The date is December the first and you have been at Hogwarts for about three months now. I understand that you haven't done anything unadvisable yet?" Crouch put emphasis on the word yet as if to imply that this streak of goodness would not last.

"He hasn't so much as showed up to class late yet," Dumbledore replied calmly. It wasn't exactly a lie, he was always on time. There were those few occasions when he had never gotten out of bed of course and thus never showed up at class in the first place.

Crouch narrowed his eyes at Dumbledore and continued, "Yes well we have had a chat with the death eater Augustine York while you were at Hogwarts and we have found that you have killed exactly forty nine muggles since you were three," Tom flinched at the number, " You have tortured countless more. I have talked with the min-"

"I thought we agreed the boy couldn't be blamed for past actions Barty. You decreed it yourself in our first meeting, unless it has become a habit of the ministry to start ignoring ruling number 613. As you know, if you want him in Azkaban now without proof of a threat you are going to have to hold a full trial with every member of the ministry's jury in attendance. If you want that then you should organize it and you shall see just how efficient lawyer I can be," Dumbledore's words came out almost in an amiable way but the threat was clear. Tom wasn't going to be going anywhere any time soon.

"He's got a point Crouch. Anyway he doesn't seem like he wants to kill everybody. The boy looks like he's twelve how much harm could he do?" The large black auror said.

Crouch glared at the auror, "Kingsley you are here on assignment not to give your opinion," Crouch sneered at the auror. Kingsley held his hands in the air as if to show that he didn't mean to harm Crouch's case by his comments though it was clear that he wasn't revoking his words.

"When we sentenced the boy I was under the assumption that he had killed maybe one or two muggles not forty nine. Dumbledore at what point do we decide that enough is enough and put the killer in jail?" Crouch asked aggressively.

Dumbledore shook his head, "You know what they say Barty. When you assume you make an ass out of you and me. I simply saw a boy in need when I stepped in. I would have done it again if I had known he had killed a thousand men. The circumstances he was under are as good of an excuse as the Imperius curse itself."

Crouch twitched a little as his argument quickly crumbled, "Yes well then I think we are done for now. We will just have to wait for the killer to take another life before we decide to act on anything."

Tom looked at the ground as the two men argued over his situation. He deserved Azkaban for what he had done. The only thing that kept him from volunteering to go into the prison at that moment was the people that he would have to face when he got there. He wasn't ready for that yet. On top of that he was starting to get used to this new life. He was doing well in school as was to be expected and he had made friends. Friends he didn't deserve. Friends that would be horrified if they knew the truth.

He must have been mad to ask the question but he did it anyway, "I would like to spend Christmas with my friend, Scott. His family invited me to stay over break. I um would really like to go."

As soon as he spoke there were four sets of eyes on him. The two arguing men immediately silenced by his voice. Crouch looked stunned as if asking such a thing was preposterous. "Absolutely not," he cried out immediately.

Dumbledore turned his gaze from Tom back to Crouch, "I think it's a great idea. You say that he has an incessant need to kill muggles. I know you are quite incorrect. Scott McNight is a muggle born and he is best friends with Tom. The fact that his parents are muggles never bothered Tom in the slightest. You think he is a danger to muggles well this can be your test. I will give you my word that nothing will happen. If I am wrong you can send us both to Azkaban."

Crouch paused as if weighing the pros and cons of three lives lost vs. having Dumbledore and Tom in jail. In the end he made himself a compromise between the two options, "He may go but his wand and any other magical objects will not go with him. He will be watched the entire time by people we will have stationed around the house. He will not be able to see these people but they will be there. Hopefully when you are proven wrong our people will be able to stop him before any lives are lost."

Dumbledore nodded with a smile on his lips, "I believe we have an agreement then Barty."

Crouch nodded. He wore a false sadness on his face as he looked at Dumbledore, " I'm sorry to say that this will be the last time that we meet when you have your freedom Dumbledore."

Dumbledore's eyes sparkled with humor, "yes well you shouldn't worry yourself over such little things. You will find that you have no more room to worry about things that will actually come to pass."

With that Dumbledore led Tom out of the ministry. Tom tried to push the thoughts of the forty nine muggles into the locked volt of bad memories that took up most of his head and tried to focus on the good things. Sam was going to be overjoyed that he would be able to come over at Christmas.

* * *

><p>AN Just giving everyone a heads up. I've planned out a story line for Tom for all seven books. Year two doesn't have a large climax that would make it interesting enough to write an entire fanfction for so this one will span through Tom's third year. It will probably be pretty long but the third year has an ending that is big enough to make that ok. Then I will start a new story for Tom's fourth year. Just wanted to keep everyone in the loop with future plans for this fanfiction.


	9. Chapter 9

Winter break had arrived in the blink of an eye, and Scott couldn't be more excited. Dumbledore had approved of Tom visiting just like Scott had predicted. This year's break was going to be the best. Scott didn't have a big family. Both parents were single children. His mother's parents had died when Scott was little, and his father was estranged from his parents. The glorious life of a boxing coach just wasn't good enough for Grandma and Grandpa McNight's son. Thus Christmas dinner had always been relatively quiet in his house. When his parents suggested that he invite Tom over he had jumped on the opportunity. He didn't really know that much about his friend, but he knew that Tom didn't have anywhere to go over break and Scott was more than happy to invite him over.

Scott's years at muggle school had been hell. Everyone had avoided him like the plague. He was known to his peers as that weird kid who never shut up. It hurt when he was last picked for the kickball team and when he was stuck with no one to work with during a group project but he could deal with them ignoring him. The worst was when they came and outwardly picked on him. There was a group of boys at his old school that used to knock his lunch tray into his shirt and target him when they played dodgeball. Once, he was on a field trip he was experimenting with his wizardness and making waves in the shark pool at the aquarium. He had just recently discovered that he could make things move with his mind and he had thought is was the coolest thing in the world. Then the ring leader of the group, Damien Crawford, walked by and pushed him into the tank of water with the sharks. There was a man there in seconds pulling him out of the water and he was fine physically. Unfortunately, he spent the rest of the afternoon crying on the bus with his mom who had chaperoned the trip. The kid who pushed him wasn't seen in the action so he never got punished, and a permanent fear of sharks was stuck into his little first grade brain.

When he came to Hogwarts he thought it was going to be the same except now there would be new magical ways for his peers to punish him. It wasn't like that though. He had a friend now, more than that, he had a best friend. When he was having some muggle school déjà vu with Draco Malfoy, Tom had stepped in. Scott had learned that day that his best friend had some super cool, really advanced magic powers. He also had learned that Tom's father was a death eater and from the looks of it a really bad one. He knew that Tom was hiding a lot about his past but Scott didn't care. Tom's past is Tom's business. If he didn't want to share he didn't have to. All that mattered was that Scott had a friend now and he was going to show his new friend his home.

"We are getting really close now," Scott said, pointing out the window, "See that tree I recognize it from going to Hogwarts."

Tom nodded and glanced at the tree Scott was pointing to. Scott had been telling Tom all about the dynamics of his family's Christmas for the past few hours, and as usual Tom didn't have much to say. He was clearly paying attention though so Scott didn't really mind. Most people tuned him out after the first five minutes, even his parents some times.

"What do you usually do for Christmas?" Scott asked, doing his best to involve Tom with out prying to much.

Tom shrugged, "My Dad was… he was an atheist. Never really believed in it all, you know so we didn't celebrate much."

Scott nodded, "Yeah, well it's a good thing I briefed you on everything on the way here then."

Tom nodded indifferently gazing back out the window again, "Yeah I guess so," he responded.

Scott was about to start talking again when Tom sat up, "I think we're here."

Scott looked out the window to see platform nine and three quarters approaching fast. As the train came to a stop he looked around the platform for his parents. They were pretty easy to spot, being that they weren't many people out there dressed in matching muggle cloths. His father was a tall, solidly built man with blonde hair that matched Scott's. The two looked extremely similar though they were so different. His father was a die hard athlete and was forever frustrated with his son's lack of natural ability. He tried to hide this disappointment though and Scott couldn't remember a time when his father looked more proud than when they had found out that he was a wizard. The man had walked around the house all day calling out, "You see that letter that means our son is something special, Ann. You see that. He's got more gut than that bucket head across the street alright." Gut that was the word he used to describe talent. Whenever a friend bragged about their kids good grades or how their kid was the star soccer player his father would always tell them that it sounded like their kids had gut. He had rarely used that word to describe Scott until he got his letter though.

His mother was standing next to his father. They didn't look that much a like except for the glasses. She also had a pair, but they weren't as thick as Scott's. Today she had her chocolate brown hair in curls that cascaded down to her shoulders. He did get his curls from her. She had dark eyes that were looking around nervously at all of the adult wizards and witches. This must be weird for them, seeing all of the wizarding community here and to not be part of it.

Scott led Tom over towards his parents. When they saw him his mom ran over and gave him a huge hug. His father hugged him too although Scott knew it made the man uncomfortable. Hugging wasn't manly, and was usually avoided in public.

"Hey so this is Tom. Tom this is my parents," he said introducing everybody.

"Hello Mr. and Mrs. McNight," Tom said holding his hand out. Scott could tell Tom was making an effort to be polite and social. Tom was usually more introverted and meeting new people wasn't on his friend's to do list.

His mother smiled and took Tom's hand, "You can call us Mrs. Ann and Mr. Parker. Mrs. McNight makes me sound too old."

Tom moved his lips into a small smile. Scott was shocked. It had taken him until November to get that much of a smile out of Tom. He must really be giving a big effort well be a normal person around his parents. Tom turned and shook Scott's father's hand. Tom had a firm hand shake and he knew that would make a big impression on his parents.

Scott's parents led everyone out to the car and Scott hoped in assuming that Tom would go around the other side. All the doors closed though and Tom still wasn't in yet, so Scott stuck his head out the door to see what was taking so long. Tom was standing a foot away from the car and staring at it like it was a foreign object.

"Come on and get in," Scott told his friend.

Tom's eyebrows came together, "What is this thing Scott? What do you mean get in?"

Scott rolled his eyes. Of course Tom didn't know what a car was, he was raised by a wizard. Scott got out and pointed to the seat, "Sit there," he commanded. Tom complied but he did so slowly and cautiously.

Scott's dad looked back from the driver's seat, "Never seen a car before?" his father asked. He looked kind of suspicious. Not that Scott blamed him, cars were so common that anyone who hadn't seen one must have been born and raised in a cave.

"No," Tom replied looking around the vehicle nervously, "I was raised by a wizard. We got around apparating and using brooms. I've never heard of, what did you call it? A car?"

Scott's father nodded. It was clear that the man thought it was strange by the expression he wore.

Scott' mother turned back looking concerned, "You have a father? We should have invited him over too. You're not missing Christmas with your family to join us are you?"

Scott hadn't told his parents anything about Tom's past. He had kind of hinted that he was an orphan though, and that was when his parents suggested inviting him.

Tom quickly shook his head, "No my father is gone now." Tom's choice of words was interesting. Scott knew Tom's dad wasn't dead just in jail. He was gone, but the way Tom said it he implied the man died. It was pretty clever actually, like lying without lying.

Scott's mother's eyebrows came together, "I'm sorry hun." She said to Tom.

Tom nodded,"Its fine," he replied. No emotion registering in his face or voice as Tom talked about his dad.

* * *

><p>Christmas day came in a blink of an eye. When they had gotten home the four had sat down at the table and they told his parents all about Hogwarts. Well, Scott had told them about it with some occasional comments from Tom. The next day was Christmas eve and the boys helped Scott's mom cook all day so that most of the food would be ready for Christmas. It was pretty funny watching Tom cook. He looked like a handicapped person holding kitchen utensils. He had tried holding everything like one would hold a wand and Scott's mom had to keep correcting him. Then finally the day had ended and they went to bed. Scott was bouncing off the wall with excitement. Tomorrow they would be receiving their presents.<p>

Scott woke up the next morning to light pouring into his window. He had layed there for a second before realizing what day it was. Then he had jumped out of the bed and shaken Tom, who was sleeping on the floor, awake.

Tom jumped a little when he woke up," What? What happened?" he had asked kind of panicky. Then Tom looked around the room and calmed down after a second.

"Come on its time for presents," Scott said impatiently. Tom nodded and followed him down the stairs. The tree had exactly four presents under it, one for everybody. His parents weren't the richest people in the world and there was always only one per person. The one present was always really well thought through.

Scott sat down and looked through the four boxes, picking out his and Tom's. He tossed one of the boxes to his friend who looked down at it question.

"It's yours," Scott said.

Tom brought his eyebrows together, "Nobody had to buy me anything," he said.

Scott's mom who was sitting on the couch with his dad shook her head, "We weren't going to invite you over and then not give you a present now. Open it."

Tom and Scott both tore at the gifts in their laps. Scott opened his to find a box of chess. Not any chess wizard chess. He grinned really big at his parents, "How did you get these. You have to go to a wizard store."

Scott's father smiled," A woman that we met the day we dropped you off at the platform helped us. What was her name Ann?"

"Molly," his mother replied, "Molly and Arthur. Her husband thought that non wizard people were fascinating. We talked to her husband while she went to get them for us. Strange man he was but they were nice."

Scott glanced over at Tom who was holding up a pair of boxing gloves looking very confused, "They are boxing gloves," Scott explained. Tom nodded though he still looked pretty confused, "Boxing is a muggle sport. My dad is a coach for one of the areanas around here. He teaches everyone from a beginner to some ametuer professionals at the ring nearby."

Tom nodded again and smiled apreciativly. Scott could tell this smile wasn't as forced as the one from the platform. His friend really did appreciate the gift, "Thank you." Tom told Scott's parents.

Tom's dad nodded expectantly, "You can't consider yourself a member of this family until you have your own pair of boxing gloves. In fact every man should have a pair." He said matter of factly.

Tom's eyes darted up at Scott's father at the mention of the word family, "Thanks," Tom said again.

"We're going to have to go break those gloves in today," Scott's father declared.

Scott's mother rolled her eyes, "Breakfast first," she said.

The four went and ate a large breakfast that matched even the food served at Hogwarts. It was not long before the boys headed out to the boxing ring down the street. The ring was located in a large warehouse type of place. From the outside it looked pretty run down. One could immediately tell where the money was spent when one walked inside. The lockers were lined with brand new practice helmets and unopened mouth guards. The ring floor had a polished logo on it and the punching bags that could be found hanging from various spots in the ceiling were a bright red color that wasn't worn in the slightest. Even for on Christmas the place was active with all the die-hard boxers going at punching bags and their own kids trying out new boxing equipment. Scott lived half his life in this areana watching his father fight and coach. Scott was never the best one at his own classes but he wasn't the worst. Being the coach's son many people teased him for not being the best. Being Scott his father was just happy that he wasn't the worst. Whenever he was beat by another kid who his father always told him that he had great technique and the other kid was just bigger and more powerful.

Scott's father had gone over to talk with one of his buddies and left Tom and Scott to get ready. The two went over to the locker room. Scott started to take his shirt off like he normally did. Proper fighters always fought shirtless so they could intimidate their opponents with their muscles his father used to tell him. It took him all of five minutes to have his gloves secure and his mouth guard and helmet ready in case his father wanted him to scrimmage someone. Then he looked over at his friend who was looking at the new pair of gloves lost.

Scott laughed, "Here take your shirt off and I'll show you how to put the gloves on."

"Um Scott I don't think that's a good idea," Tom said nervously.

"Why now?" Scott asked as he started to untie the knot holding Tom's gloves together.

"Um you know how I wear bandages on my arms all the time?" Tom said. Scott nodded, "Yeah well there is a reason for that and that reason is on my chest too."

Scott looked quizzically at his friend. Tom was doing his usual not explaining thing though and Scott sighed, "Just keep your shirt on then. If anyone asks just say it's your exercise shirt and you always wear it when you practice." Tom nodded looking relived when Scott said he could keep the shirt on. Scott proceeded to show Tom how to fasten the gloves and how to put the helmet on. He opened a new mouth guard and gave it to his friend.

"We probably won't need the helmet and mouth guard since I don't think we are actually going to be fighting any one so you can keep them off for now just know how to put them on," Scott told his friend.

They went out to the ring now and joined his father. His father nodded to Scott and told him to warm up while he showed Tom the basics. Scott walked over to a punching bag and started to go at it. It the back round he could hear his father talking to Tom.

"You always need to protect your face," he was saying, "That's why you always hold your hands up like this. I don't have time to show you all the different punches but when you do punch you want to put your whole body into it like this. That will give you the most force."

Scott had heard this talk a million times before. His father gave it in the beginning of every seminar for the more advanced people. That way people didn't have the excuse of saying they didn't know when they screwed up. Fifteen minutes later his father called them over and started to put them through what he called a boxers work out. There were three versions of the boxers work out and a good boxer was supposed to alternate between them over the course of a week. The work out would allow the boxer to stay in shape and practice their technique. Each of the tree work outs worked slightly different muscles to make sure you never over worked anything. Even though Scott didn't have a passion for boxing or exercise in general something about the work out made Scott feel at home.

"Hey look whos back in town. Heard that you went to some fancy private school on scholarship this year huh McNight," a voice said from behind him. Scott felt a knot form in his stomach. The voice was coming from a kid named Damian Crawford. Damien was often referred to around the house as that bucket head from across the street. He was also the kid who pushed Scott into the shark tank. Scott had fought him many times before in the ring but he had yet to win against him. Scott turned and looked at Crawford. He was wearing new pair of gloves and Scott could see Mr. Crawford talking to the receptionist in the front. At the moment Scott's dad was talking to a friend and was too preoccupied to do anything about the other boys being here.

Tom was by Scott's side though in a second," Hey kid what's your name?" Tom asked with a very fake politeness.

Crawford paused for a second. Scott didn't blame him. Tom was new at the ring so Crawford didn't know he was a new be. That meant all Crawford saw was a tall thirteen year old boy coming to Scott's defense and possibly threatening to fight Crawford's ten year old self. Even with Tom being new his height and weight might be enough of an advantage to win a fight against the top fighter in the ten-eleven group.

Crawford never was one to back down from a challenge though, "Who the hell do you think you are?" he spat.

Tom brought his eyebrows together and feigned offense, "All I did was ask your name kid. If you must know I'm quite sure that my name is Tom Riddle. Now who do you think that you are?"

Crawford turned red and punched Tom in the stomach. Tom tried to block it but being that he was a first time boxer he reacted too late. Scott could hear the wind leave Tom's lungs when the punch hit. Tom didn't hit the ground though which is more than you could say about Scott if he got hit like that.

Tom righted himself quickly, "You punch like a little girl." Toms said as if he were telling someone they had a terminal disease.

This made Crawford worse and he swung again at Tom. This time Tom was ready though and he ducked. This threw Crawford off balance and Scott jumped on that throwing his fist into Crawford's vulnerable gut. The boy made let out a high pitch cry on impact and staggered backwards.

"Nice shot," Tom breathed next to him.

At that moment Scott's dad realized what was happening and ran over to break it up, "You should know better than to fight someone out of the ring Scott," his father said. For a moment Scott thought his dad was actually mad at him.

Then they got into the car, "You two really gave it to that bucket head didn't you. I remember when I was your age. I got into a fight a week never lost one of them," his father started. Scott never had won a fight against Crawford and even though this one technically didn't count his father was still beaming over the victory. "I got to say you boys got some guts," his father said, "Not many people can take a hit like that Tom. And well Scott, lets just say I am an excellent teacher of the right hook." His father gushed the rest of the way home. All Scott could think was BEST CHRISTMAS EVER.


	10. Chapter 10

"A-all r-right. Lets g-g-get c-class stared-ed-ed," Quirrell stuttered in the front of the class.

Today was the first day back from break and it was going pretty slow. Tom had had a blast with Scott's family. Being with them he couldn't help but think that that's how a family should act. They all loved each other and gave each other presents. Scott's dad was a bit fanatical about boxing but he never would put Scott in any sort of danger. If Tom's father had seen that muggle boy sock Tom he would've been pretty mad that Tom didn't turn around and murder the poor kid. Scott's dad on the other hand seemed proud that the boys had avoided confrontation relatively speaking. Scott's mom was nice too. She made breakfast for the boys everyday while they were there and Tom could tell from her eye's that she cared about Scott a lot. Tom didn't really remember much about his mother. He knew that she had jet black hair and eyes that matched but not much else. He was also pretty sure that she was a good person. When Tom first started living with his father he used to protest his incessant need for killing muggles. After living with him for a few years he had learned that when you protest him he turns and starts torturing you. Occasionally though he would still dare to stand up to the man. Whenever he did he could swear that while he was on the ground screaming in pain he could hear his father cursing about how his mother had instilled too much moral crap into him and his brother. Seeing Scott's mom made him wonder whether his mom used to be like that. He wished Jonathan was still alive because he would know. When they lived with her he always used to be significantly closer with her than he was. Tom used to call him a mama's boy when they were little out of jealousy. When their father took them in Tom became daddy's boy although their relationship was kind of messed up. Jonathan refused to forget her though and Tom was sure that if he asked his brother if the woman had a freckle on her left cheek, he would know. Even if he asked years after she had died. Another thing his brother was good at, never forgetting. Jonathan also swore up and down that Tom's dad had killed their mother but that was one thing that they never agreed on.

Scott groaned in the seat next to Tom. Tom turned and shot his friend a questioning look, "He wants us to use some spell now that I don't know how to do," Scott complained. Tom looked up at Quirrell's board written in big letters was the spell Lumus. Tom sighed, first year spells were impossibly simple and he had a feeling that Quirrell was making the whole thing even easier. It was like the man was trying to teach the world how to cast spells that a four year old could learn.

"Just flick your wrist and imagine you're holding that thing you used to read in the dark. Accent on the Lu not the mos," Tom replied, bored.

Scott smiled, "You mean a flash light."

Tom shrugged, "Sure."

"R-r-ready c-class one two-o th-three," Quirrell said.

The entire class waved their wands and said, "Lumos" in unison. Everyone found different levels of success but the majority of the class did make some light. Tom made sure that he was second best as usual. No need to make the whole class blind.

Quirrell nodded, "G-good j-job c-c-class," he managed to get out. Tom sighed every time that man tried to say the word class it sounded like he was choking on something large and uncomfortable. Then he saw the teacher's eyes flicker to the wall and back. Interesting. Tom looked to see what his teacher had been looking at to find the clock resting on the wall with some garlic hanging around it. What could Quirrell possibly be waiting for. Other than of course for this class to be over, if that was the case Tom sympathized greatly with the man. Unfortunately he doubted that was Quirrell's motivation. Tom studied his teacher for the rest of the period which was around fifteen minutes. In that time the teacher glanced at the clock twenty three times. That's an awful lot of times and Tom couldn't help but be suspicious. Tom glanced over at Scott's wand it was glowing dimly from the spell but nothing about it was very exceptional.

"Hey Scott after class I want you to go up to Quirrell and ask him for some tips on how to cast Lumos better. I'll explain later," Tom whispered to his friend. Scott nodded and as soon as they were dismissed he walked up to the teacher and started to talk to him. Tom lingered and watched from a distance taking in Quirrell's every move.

"Professor I was wondering if you could help me with the spell. I can cast it but the light isn't bright enough to really help me see anything," Scott said politely.

Quirrell's lips twitched a little as he spoke to his student, "The s-s-spell?," his eyes glanced at the clock," Just p-p-practice i-it y-you'll g-g-get i-it." He glanced at the clock again and tried to side step Scott to leave.

Scott's eyes met Tom's for a second as if to ask whether he should push it more or not. Tom jerked his head left. To Quirrell it would look as if he was turning his head to look at his Professor. To Scott it was a clear answer,_no_.

"D-d-do y-y-ou n-n-need something M-mr. R-r-iddle?" Quirrell asked. Was that a bit of malice Tom detected in the man's voice? He looked his Professor in the eyes. Any form of nervousness was gone from them as a clear sign was written plainly on Quirrell's face. The sign read back off.

Tom shook his head, "No professor. I was just waiting for my friend. I told him I would wait for him here if he waited for me when I asked Professor Snape a quick question before lunch."

Tom saw a flicker of an extreme venomous expression twitch on the man's face as Tom's threat registered. Then he reverted back into his cover, "R-right I-I should be g-g-oing M-mr. R-r-riddle."

Even through the stutter Tom could tell Quirrell was disgusted with Tom's last name. The man said it like an insult.

"Have a nice day Professor," Tom called after him.

"No one calls me by my last name, "Tom muttered once Quirrell was out of the room.

"Yeah um that was really weird Tom, "Scott said.

Tom nodded, "Come on we're following him. He's going somewhere. He kept glancing at the clock like he was late for something. Then he left in a hurry and I'm pretty sure he just threatened me. I know for sure that man is a death eater. Come on we've got to hurry be quiet though. If he catches us, well he better not catch us."

Tom could feel adrenaline pumping through his veins as he dragged his friend along in the tracks of his Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. Quirrell walked with a purpose through the castle halls down the stairs and out into the court yard. He continued down towards Hagrid's hut but made a sharp right once he got closer. He was leaving a wide berth so that there was no way he would run into Hagrid.

"He is walking with a lot of confidence for a man with a bad stutter and an irrational fear of vampires don't you think?" Tom whispered to Scott as they approached the forest.

"Um yeah Tom I believe you now. Quirrell is a death eater. Do we have to go into the forest now?" Scott asked, he sounded really scared. One glace at his face and any dummy could see that Scott did** not** want to be anywhere near that forest.

"You don't have to come with me Scott," Tom said sympathetically. He meant it, but they were two boys, it kind of came off as a challenge.

He heard Scott swallow, "I'm fine. Nothing in that forest could want to kill us that bad right," Scott muttered sarcasm heavy in his voice. Tom just nodded and pushed a finger to his lips. They couldn't be heard. Once in the forest they had to keep closer to Quirrell so not to loose him. The walked for fifteen minutes at an almost run pace. Finally once Hogwarts was no longer visable through the dense trees and any light that should have been shining down on them at midday was gone Quirrell stopped. He was standing in a small clearing big enough to fit no more than three people. A man in a dark cloak was waiting for him there. In this light it was impossible to make out anything more than the fact that he was shorter than Quirrell.

"Your package Professor," The cloaked man said reaching into his cloak for something. The man's voice was gruff and it sounded like he had a frog stuck in his throat. Tom didn't like the way the man said the word Professor. He sounded humored that anyone would consider Quirrell a professor. Humored that anyone would trust him like that.

"I trust that no one else knows of this," Quirrell replied his stutter suspiciously absent.

"Not a soul," The other replied. Tom didn't have to see the man's face to know that he was smiling. It made his skin crawl.

"Hurry up we haven't the time to chit chat. The quicker you finish the quicker we can get past the dog, and the quicker I can have the stone," another voice said. Both Quirrell and the mysterious cloaked man jumped in what might have been fear at the sound of this voice. Tom moved his hand and touched his chest. This third voice belonged to no body and when it spoke in a voice that sounded dry and weak. The sound of this voice made his tattoos stir. He felt the urge to make himself known. Something in the very core of him wanted to worship this third voice. He couldn't explain it.

He glanced over at Scott. His friend was ghost white and looked a little sick. Quirrell would be leaving soon and they couldn't be caught here with these two men maybe three. Tom took one last glance back at the two men. The one in the cloak was holding something big and round out to Quirrell. The way he cradled the thing made Tom think that it was fragile not that he could know for sure. This forest was just so damn dark. That must be the package he was talking about.

Tom knew they couldn't stay any longer they would be late to Transfigurations class or worse, they would be seen.

"Come on Scott," Tom said in a voice so quiet it might not even be able to be considered a whisper. Scott nodded and the two boys eagerly ran back through the woods towards Hogwarts. Neither of them looked back.

* * *

><p>AN Hey so just wanted to wish everyone a happy new years thank you to everyone who is following this story and my other one. I really appreiciate all your feed back


	11. Chapter 11

Tom took knocked hard on the office door hoping the Professor was still there and not yet asleep. It took a few minutes but Snape did open the door. When he first opened the door he looked rather pissed. His dark eyes looked tired and grumpy and his mouth was already turned into an all-out sneer as the man went to see who was delaying his bed time. His expression changed once it registered who was outside of his office door.

"Come in," he said immediately no emotion registering in his voice. Once the door was closed behind them Snape turned to talk to Tom, "You shouldn't be here this late. If you get caught Crouch will have you in Azkaban." The man's jaw was clenched and he looked thoroughly annoyed at Tom.

"Quirrell is up to things again," Tom said completely ignoring the professor's annoyance. He can be annoyed with Tom later when there isn't a maniac out to kill Potter.

"Congratulations you have really enlightened me here. I had no idea that my collegue is doing something around the school. No idea what so ever," Snape said out his voice dripping with sarcasm. He obviously didn't want Tom in his room this late at night.

Tom ignored him again and just kept talking, "Today during class he was looking at the clock like he was going to be late. I stayed after to test my theory and so I had a friend ask some him some really stupid questions."

"You involved Mr. McNight?" Snape asked unhappily.

Again Tom just continued talking," He kind of threatened me. Nothing out loud that you could sack him for but it was a threat. I threatened him back telling him that I was going to come and talk to you. He got annoyed and left the room. He was going to go to whatever he was late for and I followed him. He went into the pretty deep into the forbidden forest."

"You went into the forest? When you get stuck in Azkaban because you insist on being a hero and stopping Quirrell please do not come whining to me," Snape replied his lips curling a bit as he emphasized the word whining.

"Wasn't caught doesn't matter," Tom replied thinking it best that he not completely ignore everything the professor said, "The man gave him something large and round. He handled it really carefully so I think it might be delicate but I'm not sure. There was only two men there but there was a third voice. The third voice sounded in charge although I don't know. They said the package would let them get past the dog and get the stone. Does that mean anything to you?"

Snape didn't speak now he looked like he had swallowed something really nasty, "It does. Was that all they said?" Tom nodded, "Your sure they didn't mention anything else about this stone or dog?"

Tom shook his head not knowing what else Snape wanted him to say," What else can you tell me about this package."

Tom didn't really know what else to say," I've told you everything I know. It was round and large. They had some kind of hard white casing around it I think because it didn't look like it was going to do anything the way it was."

Snape relaxed with that information, "It was a dragon egg. Hagrid knows how to get past the dog. Quirrell must think he can bribe the oaf into telling him about it. No one could be stupid enough to fall for that though. I will talk to him about it later though."

Tom shifted his weight to his other foot. He still didn't know what dog he was talking about but it looked like Quirrell's efforts weren't going anywhere," Um the third voice, there was no body to it."

Snape's eye's darkened," I bet you felt something on your mark when that voice spoke."

Tom nodded," It was more than that. It was like- I wanted to- um"

"Bow down and worship the voice? Comply to its every wish? Please it?" Snape said bitterness bathing his every word. Tom nodded and said nothing," That voice belongs to your father, your real father. You will feel that feeling every time that man speaks because you bear the dark mark. I would get used to ignoring those urges. He won't hesitate to kill you because he birthed you." Snape's lips curled again but this time it wasn't to sneer at Tom. This time it was more of a universal sneer of hate that showed when he talked about the dark lord.

Tom nodded uncomfortably, "The dog and the stone. What are they?" he asked trying to change the subject.

"Yes I'm going to tell you exactly what the dog and stone are. I am going to go right ahead and tell you classified information even though if you are caught with that knowledge, or caught investigating it you will be sent to Azkaban. I am going to confide in you and break a promise that I made just to satisfy your little curious student mind. That is exactly what I feel like doing right now," Snape said giving Tom the fakest smile he had ever seen.

"I got the point," Tom said getting up to leave. He opened the door and headed through the castle in the dark. He didn't use any illuminating spells to help him see better. He couldn't risk getting caught. Thus he made his way back to the Gryffindor tower in the pitch black trying not to break anything overly important.

When Tom got back the clock was approaching midnight. Tom got into his bed and muttered the muffiliato spell. He hadn't had that many night mares over the past few weeks but it wasn't worth the risk. He lied there for what must have been hours before accepting the fact that he wasn't going to get any sleep that night.

He sighed and went to change the bandages that he had on his arms. The dark mark had faded a lot and was only a reddish looking scar last time he had checked. When he saw the mark this time he found that it had gotten darker. He grit his teeth Snape must have been right, that voice was Voldemort.

Tom wondered back towards his bed and reached into his night stand. The daily profit was still there. It was the issue from the first day of school, the one that displayed his father clearly on the front. The man was wearing a black and white stripped prison outfit and was screaming into the camera. This was the only picture that Tom had of his father and it strongly supported everyone's theory that he was mad. Tom sighed and skimmed the front page again, looking over the letters of the article that he had already memorized.

That is when something new caught his eye. On the right there was a column that listed some of the other important articles in this issue of the paper. The one that caught his eye was about Gringotts being broken into. Tom flipped to the later page in the paper. The article said that on July 31st someone had tried to break into vault 713. The vault only had one item in it and that would be the sorcerer's stone. The stone could give anyone immortality and it was created by a man named Nicolas Flammel. It also said the man was friends with Dumbledore. The vault had been emptied the very same day that it had been broken into though and nothing was successfully stolen.

Tom's mind was reeling now. He was ninety nine percent sure that this was the stone that Quirrell was speaking of earlier that day. This stone could probably bring Voldemort back. Tom shivered, if that man returned he would end up living the rest of his life like he had for his first thirteen years. That couldn't happen. Tom put the article back on his desk. He would talk to Scott in the morning.

Tom managed to get three hours total of sleep that night. He woke to find that his night mare had changed again. This time he got to see who his brother's killer was.

_The man holding the wand was tall and in his fifties. His hair was jet black and well kept. His eyes were just as dark, the same color as the son who was standing across from him. Tom had never seen this man in person but he knew that his was Voldemort. When he was little and being raised by his mother he used to dream about what the man would look like. This is what his small two year old brain had come up with. _

"_Avada Kedavra," Voldemort shouted as he killed one of his two twin sons._

Tom woke up with a start breathing heavily as usual with the cold clammy sweat covering his body. It was six in the morning and he was the first awake. He calmed himself down. Voldemort didn't kill Jonathan he was gone, crippled, when Jonathan died. Someone else killed him. Someday he would figure out whom that someone was. Someday he would give this stranger what he deserved.


	12. Chapter 12

"Point your wand at the padlock and say alohomora," Flitwick said. The man was standing on a stool to make him seem taller and demonstrating the charm for the class to see.

Tom watched as Scott attempted the spell, " Alahomora." Scott sat silent as the spell did nothing. He furrowed his eyebrows and tried again, "Alahomora." Again nothing happened.

Tom turned his attention from his struggling friend and gazed around the class room. Hermione Granger had her lock open already as did Harry and Ron. She must have taught the other two the spell before because it was rare Weasley got things right on his first try.

Scott glanced up at his friend, "Why don't you try?" he said with a huff. Scott wasn't very adept at Charms and Defense Against Arts.

"Alohomora," Tom said pointing his at the padlock, it clicked open immediately. Scott frowned at the lock.

"Doesn't count you cheat," Scott said looking hurt.

Tom raised his eyebrow," I cheat?"

"Yeah you do. Knowing all this stuff in advanced is cheating. If you had to learn it from scratch you would be frustrated to," Scott said indignantly.

Tom nodded towards Hermione and company, "Struggling like Ron and Harry?" He left out Granger because Scoot would just accuse her of cheating because she read ahead.

Scott grimaced as he saw the other boys' success. He went back to trying the spell many more times. Eventually he got the thing to start sparking up when he cast the spell. Tom was waiting for the thing to combust into flames. Finally the class ended and the boys got up, Scott with the padlock still in hand, and left the room. Next the Gryffindor first years had potions and the group was more or less walking together to the dungeons.

"Hey Potter I hear you Granger and Weasley got caught after hours. Lost us one hundred and fifty points, nice going," a voice called from another level of the stair case as the group made their way down.

"You lost us how many points?" Dean Thomas asked shocked.

"I think Lee just said one hundred and fifty," Seamus Finnegan supplied for Dean.

"What did you do?" Scott asked. Tom glanced at Scott, it was rare that they all talked in a group like this.

"We got caught after hours," Harry mumbled in reply.

"What were you doing after hours?" Lavander Brown asked in a squeaky high pitched voice.

"We were getting rid of a dragon," Ron muttered sarcastically. Hermione shot him a dangerous look and Ron shut up. Tom's eyes darted up at Ron, did he just say dragon? Tom thought back to the large round object that Quirrell had gotten in the woods. Snape had said he thought that was a dragon egg. He also said that the point was to figure out how to get passed some dog

"A dragon?" Tom asked seriously.

"Oh Ronald is just kidding," Hermione responded nervously, she was a really bad liar. Tom nodded and left it at that. He had to assume that if they had to get rid of a dragon then Hagrid must have been in possession of the dragon at some point. He knew the three were close with the games keeper and he wouldn't be surprised if he had confided in the three. That meant that he had let it slip how to get passed this mysterious dog to Quirrell. Tom made a mental note to say something to Snape after class.

They were learning how to brew Drought of the Living Dead that day in Potions class. Tom knew how to do it already and sat there bored as Scott made the potion. He had offered to help but Scott claimed that it would be cheating if he received help from Tom.

Scott squinted at the book taking a sopophorus bean and trying to cut it in half unsuccessfully. There was the sound of a slap on the back of Scott's head. Tom glanced up to see Snape holding a book with which he just whacked Scott with.

"When cutting things it would be wise to hold it in place," Snape said with a sneer, it was implied that Scott was stupid for not knowing this already.

Tom jumped on the moment, "He knows." Snape's eyes darted over to Tom and narrowed. Tom returned his gazed. Snape's lip twitched a little as Tom saw understanding in the man's eyes. Quirrell knew how to get past the dog and now Snape knew he knew.

"If Mr. McKnight knows so much then why is he so incompetent?" Snape replied in a sardonic manner. Tom turned playing out his part as the put out student.

* * *

><p>"Urggggggg," Scott groaned, "Why does it have to be so hard."<p>

Tom sighed," You are getting frustrated and moving your arm wrong. The trick to learning any spell is not to get frustrated and do it calmly every time."

Scott pointed his wand at the lock once again, "Alohomora," he said again, irritation heavy in his voice. The padlock's dial spun in a circle a few times before sputtering a bit and giving off the sound of a dying machine. Scott groaned again.

"You're not listening," Tom said wearily. He had been helping Scott with the spell for three hours now, it was well past bed time, and he was getting a bit tired, "Watch me do it. Alohomora."

The hooked part of the lock made a clicking sound as it released and opened obediently for Tom. Scott put his hands on his face, "God I'm going to fail final exams this year."

Tom shrugged, "You're not that bad you're probably just a bit tired," he lied. The reality was that Scott was just that bad, but Tom wasn't going to say anything about it. No need to make Scott feel any more nervous about the approaching finals.

"Flitwick said that we needed to know this spell for the test. I've been working on it for a week now and I still don't have it. I'm going to fail," Scott moaned. The boy eye lids looked extremely heavy under his thick glasses which were sitting crooked on his nose completing his tired look.

"You have some time," Tom said trying to be comforting, though he was never a really sentimental person.

"Easy for you to say, you know enough to get you through N.E.W.T.S. already," Scott shot back.

Tom shrugged and returned the padlock into the locked position, "Try the spell again."

Scott groaned and pointed the wand at the thing again, "Alohomora." The lock sparked a little retaining its closed position. Scott groaned again and chucked the lock at a chair on the other side of the room.

"I give up," he declared, "I will just fail charms class this year."

Tom didn't argue with his friend mainly because he wanted to get some sleep that night.

"I'm fine Hermione really," a voice said coming from the common room entrance. Tom looked up to see Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, and Neville Longbottom walking in.

"What are you guys doing out again," Scott asked. He sounded annoyed but Tom knew it was probably more because he couldn't cast the spell than because Harry had probably just lost their house more points from wandering the halls at night.

"We had detention," Harry replied sounding a bit put out. Tom didn't blame him a lot of people were giving Harry a lot of crap because he lost the house so many points. Hermione was looking at Harry worried.

"What happened?" Tom asked to see what they would say.

Harry shifted uncomfortably, "Nothing really. I just saw something and my scar had a bad reaction."

Tom raised his eyebrow," Your scar?"

Harry nodded," Yeah some kind of hooded figure. I think it was you-know-who."

Tom paused, a hooded figure in the woods that was suspected to be Voldemort. It sounded awfully familiar.

"We don't know it was him," Hermione said. Tom looked up she was analyzing his face. He realized that he probably looked like he didn't belief the two because she looked quite convinced that Harry was telling the truth.

"No I believe you," Tom replied. Scott glanced over at Tom. Scott was probably going to get all worked up now that he knew Tom believed in Harry's words.

"You do?" Harry asked looking surprised.

Tom nodded thinking of his dark mark, "Yeah I mean it would make sense that your scar had a reaction to him. He gave it to you anyway."

Harry nodded still looking slightly shocked that Tom had taken his word for it. "We should probably call it a night," Scott said with a big yawn. Tom nodded and the group went upstairs for bed. Quirrell definitely possessed the knowledge to get this stone now. It would only be a matter of time before he went to actually retrieve it. He was working with Voldemort though so he must be planning to do it at a time with the ideal chance to succeed. All Tom had to do now was wait and predict when Quirrell was going to move. Then he could intercept him and stop him. Tom lay down and started to fall asleep. It wouldn't be long now before he could go out and really give his magical ability a good stretch. He smiled a little to himself hopefully he wouldn't be too rusty from all of this beginners stuff.

* * *

><p>AN Next chapter will be the big climax for year one so get excited because I know I am. I said this in my other story too but schools back up again and updating will probably take a little longer and be a bit random now so bear with me. Hope you liked this chapter.


	13. Chapter 13

Tom walked down the corridor at a leisurely pace. He didn't need to be at his final class, potions, for another fifteen minutes. Examinations had gone well for Tom, not that he expected anything less. Scott had said he did ok, which was good considering that Tom would never have heard the end of it if Scott did badly.

Tom walked into the potions classroom exceedingly early. Most of the Slytherin students were already there, but Gryffindor was poorly represented at the moment. Snape was sitting at his desk in the front of the room. His black eyes were watching the students with a hard expression. Seeing his professor jogged his memory of something he was meaning to talk to Dumbledore about. He felt more comfortable talking to Snape though so he walked up to him to talk.

"Professor, am I going to have to visit the ministry again when school lets out?" Tom asked.

"Why would I know that?" he responded.

Tom shrugged, not knowing why he thought Snape would know. "I guess I'll ask Dumbledore after class. Do you know the password?"

Snape shook his head, "Professor Dumbledore is out today."

That got Tom's attention," Why?"

"He is in London for ministry business," Snape replied. The man looked like his patience was wearing thin, as Snape grew tired of interacting socially.

Tom nodded silently, "Ministry business," he muttered to himself. That in itself was rather suspicious, but it didn't really matter if the reason of absence was valid or not. All that mattered was at the moment the school was vulnerable. Tonight would be the night Tom would go for the stone, he had to assume it would be Quirrell's time of choice too. He briefly considered telling Snape this but he didn't have any proof. Talking to Snape would get him nowhere. He had to go confront Quirrell himself.

Tom walked over to join Scott who was sitting alone in the back.

"What's up?" Scott asked cheerfully.

Tom glanced back at Snape. He couldn't tell the professor what he was planning to do. He could tell Scott though, "Dumbledore's not here today."

"So?" Scott asked not seeing the point.

"Quirrell is going to do something tonight," Tom explained.

Scott's expression darkened a little when Tom brought the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher was brought up," Right the death eater. Is that what you were telling Snape? Is he going to do something?"

"Boys are you two finished talking or would you rather finish you're conversation in the hall?" Snape asked unhappily from the front of the class.

"We're done professor," Scott answered automatically. Tom glanced back to Scott and mouthed the word later. Potions class couldn't have been slower that day. Since they had finished with their exams the entire class was more or less pointless. Scott kept looking over at Tom with a worried look throughout the whole thing. Finally after what seemed like a millennium class was over.

The two boys left class immediately and Scott fell into step with Tom as he led the way towards the third floor, and Quirrell's classroom.

"So is that what you told Snape?" Scott asked impatiently.

Tom shook his head," I didn't tell Snape anything. I had a question and he answered it."

Scott stared at his friend, understanding registering on his face. Then Scott did something that Tom hadn't anticipated, he got angry. "Tom you are going to get yourself murdered. You can't go and face him alone."

Tom silenced him with a glance, "He can't kill me Scott."

"Why not?" Scott asked exasperated.

"Because of who I am, who my dad is," Tom replied quietly.

Scott shifted uncomfortably, "Right your dad was a death eater, right." The anger had vanished for a moment as Scott thought this over. After a moment's deliberation though it returned , "What does that matter? If you get in the way of a death eater he is going to kill you."

Tom looked straight ahead, not making eye contact with Scott. "The death eater isn't who I'm talking about Scott. Remember I told you my last name is Riddle, not York. My father, Tom Riddle Jr, was important. They won't kill me because of him."

Scott stared blankly at Tom," What? Is he another death eater? It doesn't matter. You are going to get yourself killed!"

Tom shook his head, "He was more than just a death eater Scott," he replied cryptically.

Scott looked like he was really ticked off now. Tom didn't really understand why. It wasn't like he was risking Scott's life with his actions.

"You don't get it. You're the only friend I've ever had. You can't die on me. I can't go back to being the kid I was at muggle school," Scott whispered quietly.

Tom looked over at his best friend startled. No one had ever said anything like that to him before. It had been five years since someone cared about him, he wasn't used to it. Now was the perfect time to ruin it all, "Scott my father is Voldemort."

Scott stopped walking and stared at Tom, his jaw dropping slightly. "What?"

"My biological father is Lord Voldemort," Tom repeated waiting for Scott to look disgusted or something. For the first time since he had met the boy, Scott said nothing. He was speechless. Tom searched for something to break the silence. The only option was to start explaining himself, so that was what he did. He told Scott about Augustine York, about his mother, about the dark mark that twisted its way all over his torso, and the reason why he always muttered the mufiliato curse before the two went to sleep. He told Scott about Jonathan, and his mysterious death when they were seven. He told Scott everything.

"Quirrell can't kill me because I'm Voldemort's son. My father used to tell me that I existed so that I could carry on Voldemort's message in the case that he died, which of course he did. He said that someday I had to take my biological father's place. I never questioned that until I came here. I never really questioned anything my father said until I came here. I always just did what people told me to do. My father said kill that muggle, I did it. Dumbledore said I had to stay out of trouble, I did it. I guess I just wanted to make everyone happy, specifically my father. I thought that maybe if I became this weapon that he wanted me to be, then maybe he would be like a normal father. Maybe he would care, you know? I don't want to be this ultimate weapon anymore though. I have friends now. I have a place here at Hogwarts. Regardless of what I want though, no death eater will kill me until they know for certain that there is no changing my mind. They will put me through hell before they kill me. I haven't gone through hell yet so Quirrell won't kill me" Tom finished.

Scott examined his best friend still not speaking. They stood there for another ten minutes while he digested the onslaught of information that he had just given him. Finally he said something, "I'm coming with you."

"No," was Tom's simple answer.

"Why not? I can take care of myself," Scott replied stubbornly.

"Because I have another job for you," Tom said.

"Oh. What is it?" Scott asked.

"I'm going to go talk to him now. I will find you if I am wrong. If I'm not back by dinner, and if Quirrel isn't there either than I want you to go to Snape. Okay?" Tom told him.

Scott looked worried again, "I thought you said that he wouldn't kill you."

Tom nodded reassuringly, "Just a precaution. I am almost positive I can take him anyway."

Scott didn't look particularly happy but he did accept his job. The two had reached the third floor now and it was time for Scott to go.

"Good luck," Scott said nervously before retreating slowly up the steps towards the Gryffindor common room.

Tom watched his best friend leave. He had put his complete trust in Scott today and he had to say he felt like a weight was lifted off his shoulders. He sighed and turned to walk quickly down the hall way. He was in front of room 3C within the next five minutes. He took a deep breath and opened the door. Quirrell was swiftly walking down the steps from his office. He looked calm and confident with his steps, something very out of character for the man. When he looked up and saw Tom he quickly fell back into character though.

"M-m-mr. R-r-riddle," Quirrell said surprised, "W-what are y-you d-d-d-doing here?"

Tom closed the door behind him closing himself in with the professor," You going to get the stone? I know Dumbledore isn't here and we're alone. You can drop the act now."

Quirrell smiled a little the nervousness vanishing, " I see you seem to think you know things Mr. Riddle. You will soon find that you don't. Now step aside boy we're on the same side."

Tom didn't move, "Who's side is that?" he asked a hint of malice in his voice.

"You're a death eater . It is written quite plainly across your skin. I am on your side," Quirrell replied impatiently.

"I'm not a death eater," Tom said forcefully.

Quirrell raised his eyebrow amused, "You were raised a death eater. There isn't any other way about it. You serve your father."

Tom drew his wand from his pocket," I served him a year ago. That's past tense as in I don't anymore."

Quirrell frowned and drew his wand out too," You want a fight?"

Tom didn't reply instead he shot a stinging jinx at Quirrell. He deflected it and returned fire with a verbally spoken curse, "Confringo" he shouted aiming the spell at Tom.

"Aqua Eructo," Tom cast engulfing Quirrell's curse in water. Quirrell waved his wand wordlessly and his curse exploded sending neddles of water in all directions. Tom cast protego silently blocking himself from the bombardment. Quirrell quickly reacted with another spell. Tom didn't have time to cast another protection spell so instead he dove out of the way. The spell hit the door and knocked it loose sending it crashing into the wall of the hallway.

Tom fumbled for his wand which he dropped some point mid dive. It was lying a good few feet away from him. He looked back over towards Quirrel who was casting another spell at him. Tom rolled over the spell missing him by a few inches.

"Accio," Tom cried, willing his wand to come to him. It obeyed, the time he spent learning magic without a wand had clearly paid off. He caught the wand and immediately turned to caste another spell at Quirrell. His professor had already been casting one though and the two spell collided half way in the air. When they collided there was a momentary connection between their wands as each spell vied for superiority. Neither spell won though as Quirrel did something to make the two explode where they were connected. Tom was blown back a little, his back colliding with the wall. He jumped to his feet and cast stupefy at Quirrell who deflected it.

"Crucio," Quirrell yelled sending the red curse into Tom's chest. Tom smiled, as he had said in his trial, he was immune to the cruciartus curse now. His attacker would need his father's curse to torcher him now. Tom took advantage of Quirrell's surprise when he didn't react to the curse and shot another curse at him

"Petrificus Totalis," Tom shouted. Quirrell was the one who resorted to diving now as he narrowly dodged the spell.

Quirrell through a hex at Tom, but it missed completely, aimed way too high to hit him. Tom smiled and started to cast his finishing spell. That was when he it hit him. The spell Quirrell had cast wasn't aimed at him, it was aimed at the cabinet behind him. The cabinet toppled over Tom knocking him over. The weight of it pushed Tom into the ground hard. Tom grunted and tried to push the thing off of him. Eventually he managed to twist himself so that he was facing upward but by then it was too late. Quirrell's wand was pointed at Tom's throat and with the cabinet on top of him and his wand god knows where he was in no position to retaliate.

Quirrell smiled at Tom and was about to say something when another voice interrupted him," I want to speak to him," the voice said. Tom looked around the room looking for another person but found none.

Quirrell looked conflicted," Master you don't have the strength to do this twice tonight, you wanted to speak to Potter."

"I'm strong enough to speak to both Quirinus," the voice replied calmly. Quirrell looked unhappy but he began to unwrap his turban. Tom felt for his wand with his hand trying to find it while Quirrell was distracted, but he found little success. Quirrell turned around then revealing another face on the back of his head. Tom felt his jaw drop a little.

"Voldemort," Tom muttered not quite believing his eye's.

"You are not to address me that way boy," Voldemort said sharply. Tom felt pain spread through his tattoos like fire. He was feeling déjà vu. This pain was frighteningly similar to the torcher his father used to subject him to with the spell he had invented years ago. His vision blurred and for a moment all that he could do was scream wait for it to end. Mercifully, it was over quickly.

Voldemort smiled, "Let's try that again."

Tom gasped for air as the burning in his tattoos subsided; he made a point to say nothing to the face. He refused to call Voldemort his master. He looked up into the face that hovered above him. This was his biological father, he thought to himself. Somehow in that moment the only thing that passed through his head at that moment was how he really hoped he looked more like his mother. Pain engulfed him again and he could hear Voldemort's words echoing through his head.

"I hear your thoughts," Voldemort said, "I see you're potential. You are not a lost cause just yet. I desperately hope that when the time comes you make the right decision, for your own sake."

Tom felt himself fading as the pain became too much to handle. He closed his eyes and let himself go falling into the blackness that was his unconscious. He had failed and now the only thing standing in between Voldemort and this stone he kept hearing about was a dog that Quirrell apparently knew how to get passed. Tom prayed Scott would tell Snape in time. That was the world's last hope.


	14. Chapter 14

Tom woke up to find that he was in the hospital wing. He was wearing pajamas that he didn't remember changing into and he felt stiff. He sat up and stretched taking in his surroundings. There was one empty chair to the right of his bed. Someone must have come to visit him, probably Scott. The bed next to him was occupied by someone with jet black hair. Tom sat up more trying to see the kids face but found that such movements made his limbs shake as they struggled to support his weight. Tom sighed and sunk back down onto the bed, trying to remember how he had gotten stuck in here.

"Quirrell," he muttered to himself, remembering the duel he had fought recently. He wasn't sure how recently since he didn't know how long he had been in this bed. Things must have turned out ok though. He felt refreshed like he had been asleep for a while recovering. If Voldemort had returned Tom probably wouldn't be left alone long enough to recover fully. At least that was how it used to work with his father.

"You're awake," a voice said coming from the bed next to him. Tom looked over to find the one and only Harry Potter laying there. The boy had a few scratches on his face as if he had been in a fight and he was reaching for his glasses that were resting on the nightstand.

Tom nodded, "What happened? Did Quirrell come after you?" he asked. It would make sense that Voldemort would have gone after Potter that night and an attack like that would explain the injuries.

Harry shrugged, "Sort of. You knew about Quirrell?"

Tom nodded, "For a while now, why did you know too?"

Harry looked at the end of his bed, " Well I knew about this stone-" he began.

"A stone that would bring Voldemort back?" Tom asked knowing the answer already.

Harry nodded, "I thought that Snape was after it." Tom actually snorted a half laugh at that. He had been raised to know what an enemy acted like and although Snape was a bit introverted he did not abide to any of the signs.

"I knew Dumbledore was gone the other night and I figured that was when he would go for the stone," Harry continued. He looked a little embarrassed that Tom was laughing at his Snape theory, "It was hidden in the third floor corridor that was off limits. I went there and got passed all the protections to find Professor Quirrell. We fought and I guess that I won, although it sounds like I passed out and then Dumbledore showed up to save the day."

Tom nodded silently; he had received years of training to prepare him for a battle like the one he had fought the other night. Now the battle had come and he had lost while Harry Potter, a boy raised by muggles, faired just as well, if not better than him, against the same opponent.

_Losing isn't a choice boy. Win or die._ His father had said to him many times over the years. He had lost and it was unacceptable. Tom frowned to himself, he needed to learn more, and unfortunately he wasn't going to gain any more knowledge from second year schooling than he was during his first year. He needed a special tutor or something. He sighed and put that on his list of things to do.

"What happened to you?" Potter asked.

"I- um- I received special schooling when I was younger. Part of that was analyzing the behavior of an enemy. I do it kind of subconsciously now and in the beginning of the year I noticed something was off with Quirrell. There is a certain look in a person's eyes when they are nervous and he never had it even though he always stuttered. I watched him pretty closely all year and it was pretty clear that he wasn't a friendly. I saw him curse you during the quidditch match, I knew there was something weird about the troll thing, and he got some large round egg from a guy in the forest at one point."

"A dragon egg?" Harry asked. Tom shrugged to show he wasn't sure but Harry looked pretty convinced it was a dragon egg.

"Any way for a while I just told Professor Snape about it and let him handle it, which he did. Then when I heard that Dumbledore was gone I went to Quirrell's room to confront him. I lost," Tom told him. The story wasn't exactly complete, but telling it in its entirety involved spilling quite a few beans about his past. That wasn't happening.

"He didn't get this stone thing then?" Tom asked.

Harry shook his head, "No Dumbledore came in and told me everything earlier. He said you knew a lot about it and to fill you in when you woke up. I guess I fell asleep again though and when I woke up you were awake."

"Is that talking I hear" a high pitched voice called from the hallway. Madame Pomfrey walked in and to find Tom sitting up in his bed, "Good you're awake," she said walking over to Tom, "How do your ribs feel? That cupboard broke three of them."

Tom shrugged," Fine." He replied, it wasn't his ribs that were bothering him.

"Shirt," Madame Pomefrey said expectantly. Tom looked at her confused for a moment before understanding. She wanted him to take his shirt off so she could look examine his injuries. Tom glanced over at Harry uncomfortably. He didn't seem to be paying too much attention to him anymore, but he had no doubt that if he did remove his shirt Harry would see the tattoos.

"Come on. We haven't got all day," she said impatiently. Tom gritted his teeth and thought momentarily about protesting. Madame Pomfrey already knew about his dark mark though, as did all the staff, and she obviously didn't care about it or the fact that Harry would probably think Tom was a death eater. After another moment's pause he complied.

The mark that was on his chest was black as night. As the year had went on it had faded to more of a really large red outline than a tattoo, but his encounter with Voldemort seemed to have returned it to its previous glory. The edges of it were red and irritated; he couldn't help but notice that he probably was the mirror image of the boy who sat at trial in September. Everything had changed so completely since then though it was hard to imagine that he was the same person.

Madame Pomfrey pursed her lips and examined the mark as if she was trying to find a way to decrease the irritation.

"It will fade with time," Tom muttered quietly, "No potion will fix it or the stiffness that goes with it. I'll just deal with it."

Tom glanced over at Harry who was now staring wide eyed at Tom.

"Yes well I have some medicine for your ribs," Madame Pomfrey said quickly going to her supply closet.

"What's that?" Harry asked nervously. Tom sighed and started to explain to Harry. It was inevitable now; he left out the part that Voldemort was his real father and anything that had to do with Jonathan though. It was an odd thing, explaining his life to the boy-who-lived. First of all the two had said three words to each other all year, and on top of that his brother had died for the kid. He had expected some kind of super human with powers beyond imagine, and instead he found that the Great Harry Potter was extraordinarily ordinary.

Harry accepted Tom's explanation without any sign of disgust or hatred which was more than Tom could ask for. After Tom told him the two continued talking about random things, the house cup, Quirrell, chocolate frog cards, etcetera. Harry shared some of his candy with Tom and the two seemed a bit more like old friends than acquaintances. After a while, Tom's anti-social self finally won over and the conversation died down. The two boys just sat there in a comfortable silence.

Dinner came quickly and Madame Pomfrey walked in bearing two Gryffindor robes, " Wouldn't want to miss the end- of –year feast would we?"

Both boys shook their heads and quickly changed into their robes. When they walked into the Great Hall Slytherin banners hung from the ceiling symbolizing their win. Harry and Tom parted ways at that point. Harry went to sit with Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley and Tom went to sit with Scott. His friend shot him an ear to ear grin when he saw Tom approaching.

"You're up," Scott said excitedly. Tom nodded and smiled a little. "Perfect. I got a letter from my parents. They wanted to know if you'd like to stay the summer. You said you would probably just be at Hogwarts right so you should probably be able to come. We could be like brothers, it would be awesome. I know you have to clear it with Crouch but you'll try right?"

Tom nodded smiling again; it really was a strange day with all this happiness running around. "Sure I'll try," he said. Scott nodded and started to ramble about all the things he had missed when he was passed out, most of which he had already heard from Harry earlier. Tom had just noticed exactly how hungry he was when Dumbledore began to speak

"Another year gone!" Dumbledore said cheerfully. "And I must trouble you with an old man's wheezing waffle before we sink our teeth into our delicious feast. What a year it has been! Hopefully you heads are all a little fuller than they were," There was a loud snort coming from further down the table, probably one of the Weasley twins. Dumbledore pretended not to hear it and continued, "You have the whole summer ahead of get them nice and empty before next year starts. Now, as I understand it, the House Cup here needs awarding, and the points stand thus: In fourth place, Gryffindor, with three hundred and twelve points; in third, Hufflepuff, with three hundred and fifty-two; Ravenclaw has four hundred and twenty-six and Slytherin, four hundred and seventy-two."

The Slytherin table erupted in applause, some even raising to their feet, as they cheered for themselves. The house pride going on a few tables down wasn't even enough to damper Tom's good mood, although he never really cared much for points.

"Yes, yes, well done, Slytherin," said Dumbledore. "However, recent events must be taken into account."

Tom frowned unsure of what Dumbledore was talking about.

"Ahem," said Dumbledore. "I have a few last-minute points to dish out. Let me see. Yes. First to Mr. Ronald Weasley for the best-played game of chess Hogwarts has seen in many years. I award Gryffindor House fifty points."

There was a few disbelieving faces over at the Slytherin table as the Gryffindors applauded for some unexpected changes.

"Second - to Miss Hermione Granger for the use of cool logic in the face of fire, I award Gryffindor House fifty points."

Scott gave a loud whistle of approval as the disbelieving Slytherins started to turn their gaping mouths into deep scowling faces.

"Third to Mr. Harry Potter" said Dumbledore. The room went deadly quiet. "for pure nerve and outstanding courage, I award Gryffindor House sixty points. There are all kinds of courage," said Dumbledore, smiling. "It takes a great deal to stand up to our enemies, but just as much to stand up to our friends. I therefore award ten points to Mr. Neville Longbottom."

With that said the room broke in to applause three fourths of the school giving Longbottom and Potter a standing ovation. Tom looked up slightly worried that Dumbledore would give him points for standing up to Quirrell too. Dumbledore winked at him and Tom felt relief flow through him. Dumbledore knew that he wouldn't want that kind of attention.

"Which means," Dumbledore continued, "we need a little change of decoration."

He clapped his hands twice and the green banners turned to ones of red and gold. An extravagant banquet of every food you could possibly be craving appeared before them all. Tom dug in, nothing could damage his spirits right now and the feast made them rise even higher. In that moment of time, no matter how long or short it was, Tom was wholly and completely in the present. Nothing made him happier.

* * *

><p>AN Well thats all for this one. I decided against making this one years one through three and so I am going to start a new one for year two. Hope you liked my story. I want to thank everyone who reviewed over the course of all fourteen chapters. I would love to hear all of your opinions on how I did. Year two will be called Slytherin's Heir because Tom is obviously the heir of Slytherin being Voldemort's son. That would be your sneak peak hint hint. Thanks for reading.


	15. Chapter 15

The Heir of Slytherin is up. Go through my profile page to get to it.


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